I Know Your Type
by shelivesfree
Summary: "Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** I Know Your Type

 **Rating:** M

 **Characters:** Anakin Skywalker, Padme Amidala

 **Genre:** Modern AU

 **Synopsis:** "Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"

 **Author's Note:** Just a plot bunny about a college AU that suddenly came to me. I was inspired by a 2008 song I heard on the radio today as I was driving to work - Good Girls Go Bad by Cobra Starship. Just something about that song made me think instantly of this scenario and so... well... I just _had_ to write it! I've always enjoyed the idea of Anakin being a bit of a player. But Padme has none of it. Hope you enjoy some pointless, hilarious fluff.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

"Shots!" Ahsoka cheers excitedly, right in my ear. I swear I go deaf for just a second – she really has no idea how loud her voice is when she's drunk. Beside her, Barriss and Riyo clap their hands together with glee, and then Ahsoka's tugging my arm, pulling me unwillingly towards the bar. I can't believe this. Really, they shouldn't even _be_ here. All three of them are only eighteen, yet somehow they managed to get fake IDs and convince me to take them out. Only the thought of some fucking creep taking Ahsoka home made me realise that I couldn't let her go out alone. She was like my little sister – I had to look out for her. But, that didn't mean I was enjoying it.

The last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday night was to stand chaperone to three, _barely_ legal, drunk girls. I mean, come _on._ I'd much rather be grinding up against Aayla Securra – she's been giving me those _come fuck me_ eyes all fucking night, but I've been stuck over here with three wasted teenagers, swatting off guys left, right and center. I mean, Ahsoka's not ugly and, dressed like _that,_ in a skirt that's way too short for my liking, and one of those halter crop tops that cost way too much for such a miniscule amount of fabric… it's no wonder she's getting so much attention. And, the girl can move, I'll give her that much. I would have preferred her to dress a little more… _modestly_ , though, just to sate my big brother protective instincts.

"Come on, Skyguy!" she begs me, blinking at me with her huge blue eyes, and I sigh and run a hand through my blonde hair. "Let's do tequila shots!"

"Alright, _one_ round," I renege, dreading what's to come. My head is going to fucking hate me in the morning, but how can I say no to her?

She grins maniacally at me and then leans half-over the bar, shouting at the poor bartender for her shots – not that he seems to mind, I notice with a frown, because the way she's leaning her body against the bar is pushing her cleavage up in a way that is _so_ inappropriate, and I hastily grab her by the waist and yank her back down onto her feet. I flash the guy a warning glare, but he only smirks at me and starts pouring tequila into four shot glasses and passes out lemon wedges.

"Cheers!" Ahsoka cries, and I lick the salt from my hand before throwing the shot back. My gag reflex instantly comes to life, and I hastily shove a slice of lemon in my mouth, sucking on it fervently to rid my mouth of the horrid, acid taste of tequila that makes me want to puke. It's as I spit the half-dissolved lemon into the waiting cup – Ahsoka staggers next to me and almost falls over – that I see _her._ Suddenly, whatever shenanigans Ahsoka and her friends get up to is no longer of any concern to me, because there, by the wall, is the most _beautiful_ girl I've ever seen. I feel my jaw go slack and my eyes widen as I watch her. She's simply stunning.

An angel in a place of sin.

She's one of those wallflower types, I can tell, but _fuck_ , if she isn't the most goddamn gorgeous creature in the world. My mouth goes dry as I stare at her. There's something about her that draws my attention, keeps me captivated. She's dressed simply in a high-neck black dress, one of those ones with little capped sleeves and a skirt that flares out from her tiny waist to swirl around her mid-thigh. But on her, it might as well have been a ball gown. Her brown curly hair is piled in an elegant mess on top of her head, and her dark brown eyes scan the room curiously as she sips her drink through a straw. _She is absolute perfection._

My palms are sweating. My heart is palpitating in my chest. I want to go over to her, but my feet are rooted to the spot. What the fuck? This isn't a normal occurrence for me. I have _no_ problem talking to women. Actually, I'm pretty fucking great at it. It's not an unusual situation for me. I hardly ever leave a club alone on a Saturday night. Yet, the thought of even breathing the same _air_ as this girl has me petrified. She's too refined, too pure, too _innocent_ for a guy like me.

A heavy waft of tequila breath hits my nostrils, and I stagger a little as Ahsoka throws her arm around my shoulders. "Whatcha looking at, Skyguy?" she drawls in my ear, her words slurred a little. I don't respond, so she follows my gaze and laughs. "She's cute," she whistles in appreciation.

Cute is definitely _not_ the word I would have used. Sublime. Exquisite. Divine. Cute implies that she is a little girl – to me, she is an angel.

"I didn't think good girls were your type," Ahsoka points out with a smirk.

I'm about to retort that _all_ girls are my type, when _she_ lifts her gaze slowly and looks right at me. Fuck. Fuck fucking _fuck_. The way her eyes widen informs me immediately that she knows I'm staring at her, but I can't look away. Her gaze is… _intoxicating,_ even from the other side of the bar. The corners of her mouth twitch up into a little smile around her straw, and I swear my heart stops beating. Amusement dances in her dark eyes, as though she's privy to some private joke that I'm unaware of. I suddenly want to know what it is she's thinking. I am _consumed_ with fascination.

Our eyes lock and nothing else seems to exist. The blaring music fades out, the crowd of people disappear, and it's just _us_ ; me and her _._ I don't know how, but I feel a connection to her, and I've never even spoken a single word to her. The thought makes me scoff internally. I'm not a romantic guy; I like to have fun and live in the moment, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I mean, I'm twenty-two, and amazingly good-looking and charming as fuck, and I make the most of it. But, _this girl_ … I suddenly feel like a bumbling fifteen year old again.

"You should go and talk to her," Ahsoka tells me, and I'm tempted, _oh_ , how I'm tempted, and I go to make my move when – like a shard of glass to my heart – she is approached by another guy, and she smiles up at him, and her smile is so dazzling, that I know I've lucked out. Even though it's my own fault for being so weak, I still feel a sharp pang of rejection. It's unjustified, but it's there, a raw and weeping sore that eats me up from the inside, and I lean against the bar sullenly and run a hand through my hair, dejected.

Ahsoka decides that to cheer me up, we should have another round of shots, and this time I don't even hesitate to drown out my disappointment in losing the most perfect girl I've _ever_ laid eyes on. I scan the room for any sign of Aayla, hoping maybe she'll oblige me in a quick blow job in the bathroom like last time, but she's against the wall, wrapped up in some guy's arms, so I guess that ruins my chances there, too. _Tonight's not your night, Skywalker._

The night wears on and I drink more and more, and decide, by 2 am, it's time to put Ahsoka and her friends in a taxi home. She's sloppy drunk, can hardly walk straight, and Barriss spent the last half an hour throwing up in the toilet; so, I feel it's the only right thing to do. I head back inside the club, not quite ready to go home yet, when I see that _she's_ alone again. Still by the wall. Still sipping from her straw. Still fucking beautiful.

I give myself a little pep talk, pumping myself up, gaining the courage I need to go over and approach her. With a firm nod, I weave my way through the crowd of dancing drunks, towards the wall, never taking my eyes off of her. She's not looking at me, doesn't even notice I'm beside her – her eyes are fixed on a group of people next to her, surveying them with mild interest. I play over the line in my head, how best I'm going to get her attention, but the way her head is twisted to the side gives me a pleasing view of her slender neck. _Graceful._ Her ivory skin is so tempting that I have to resist the urge to sink my teeth into it, bruise it with my lips, marking her as _mine_ , and my smooth line is suddenly forgotten.

"Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally.

She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head back to look up at me. "Excuse me?!"

Flashing her an impish grin, I try to amend myself and lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." It's probably the single _worst_ line I've ever delivered, but I've said it now, so I just have to deal with the consequences.

The look she gives me is far from impressed. Rightly so. "Do you use that line on all the girls, or am I just lucky?" She raises an eyebrow.

Well, fuck. She's quick. Something about that sparks my interest. _A lot._ "It got your attention though, didn't it?" I quip, a grin spreading across my face.

Her eyes twinkle with amusement, and she runs her perfectly manicured finger around the rim of her glass. "You should receive a reward for the worst pickup line in the history of bad pickup lines."

I lean a little closer to her and breathe in her scent. She smells fucking amazing, I can't get enough of it, of _her_. "I wouldn't mind that if _you_ were giving me the reward."

She laughs, and it's the most gorgeous sound I've ever heard. And, the _way_ she laughs too, the way her perfect, red lips part, her eyes flutter closed just a little, her cute little nose crinkles adorably. I suddenly want to make her laugh for the rest of my life. "I'm sure," she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice. God, this woman is magnetising! "Actually, I was wondering when you were going to come over here."

Fuck. _Stay cool, Skywalker. Stay cool._ "You were busy," I shrug, trying for nonchalant. "I didn't want to interrupt you and your beau."

She frowns, and for some reason, she still looks so gorgeous. It's inconceivable to me how perfect this girl is. I **have** to get to know her. "Oh, Rush? He's not – " she breaks off and bites her lips as she gathers her thoughts, and I'm possessed with the sudden urge to free that lush bottom lip with my teeth and suck it into my mouth. "He's just an…old acquaintance."

I scoff at that. "So, an ex, then?"

Her expression grows terse. "What makes you assume that?"

Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. "No one refers to someone as an 'old acquaintance' unless they have a history… a _bad_ history."

My teasing only seems to make her mad, and she purses her lips together in a thin line. I've overstepped a mark. "You know nothing about me," she snaps, and I curse at my lack of tact. Why couldn't I just keep my fucking mouth shut? Here I am, talking to the girl of _my dreams_ , and now I've gone and blown the slim chance I had of taking her home.

She turns away from me, idly swirling her straw in her glass, and I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "I'd… I'd like to," I tell her, sheepishly, and the admission makes her expression soften a little. She eyes me sternly, as if judging the truth of my words, and then smiles. Her smile...it's so breathtaking that I have to remind myself to breathe.

"Well then, what would you like to know…?" her voice trails off in a question, eyebrows raised.

"Anakin Skywalker," I introduce myself, holding out my hand. She takes it in hers, and her hands are so small and elegant and feminine, perfect...just like everything about her. The mere touch of her skin against mine sends bolts of electricity straight up my arm. I suddenly feel like my arm is on fire. "And, I'd like to know what an angel like you is doing in a dive like this?"

Her cheeks flush prettily at the compliment, and my insides do a dance of victory. Success! "Padme Naberrie." Even her _name_ is beautiful. "It's my friend's birthday," she inclined her head towards a group of girls dancing in the middle of the room.

I eye her curiously, curling my lips into a smirk. "I take it you don't frequent the clubbing scene much."

Instead of reprimanding me for my rude observation, she merely sighs and casts her eyes to the floor, adorably bashful, and I've _never_ wanted to kiss a girl more so than right now. "Is it that obvious?" she asks softly, a little insecure.

I reach out and touch her wrist, and her eyes flick down at the contact, before she's back to looking at me again, staring right into my soul, our eyes locked. "Well, for starters," I begin, resorting to teasing banter because I just _can't handle_ the emotions she's stirring in me right now. "You're not dancing."

She flushes even deeper. "I'm not really the dancing type," she admits, shyly. "Especially not in social situations." She's insecure, and I stare at her incredulously, because she's _so_ beautiful, and she has no idea. There is _nothing_ she has to be insecure about.

"Well then, this is your chance," I say, beaming at her, taking her wrist and pulling her closer to me, so that my breath is in her ear. Her breath hitches at the proximity, and I feel my belly do a nervous flop as our bodies touch, and I slide my hand gently up her arm and down her back, resting chastely on her hips. "Dance with me," I breathe in her ear, low and husky, and she shudders in my arms.

"I'm terrible," she protests, though I notice how she hasn't moved away from me. If anything, she's pressing herself closer to me, and it makes me want to bang my chest and roar in animalistic pride because I have this _exquisite creature_ in my arms...and she's _letting me,_ and I _know_ I'm the luckiest guy there.

Grinning, I wink at her. "Well, you're in luck. I'm a great dancer."

A soft laugh slips past her lips, and I have that urge to kiss her again. "You're awfully full of yourself, aren't you?"

I boldly wrap my arms around her tiny waist and pull her into me, chest to chest. She's so short, even in heels, that her head only reaches my shoulder. "It's a gift," I return slyly, and she grins at me, takes my hand and, before I realise what's happening, she's leading me out onto the packed dance floor. I watch her for awhile, this sappy grin on my face, as she twirls and sways her perfectly curved hips to the music, curving her arms through the air. Her eyes are closed as she lets the music flow through her and, even though she's not very graceful, I can't take my eyes of her. She's fucking celestial.

After several minutes of just watching her, she lifts her head and blushes furiously in embarrassment, stopping her movements, as she realizes I'm staring at her. I take her hips possessively in my hands and pull her against me, so our hips are flush together, and as I guide our movements, together, we dance – though it's more like slow grinding. Her hands skim up my chest, before curling around my neck, and she softly twirls her fingers through the hair at my nape. The way she's looking at me, all flushed and breathless and gorgeous, gives me no choice but to close the distance between us and capture her lips with my own.

She tastes _amazing_ , sweet and lush and fresh, and it's addictive. I don't _ever_ want to stop kissing her. She tugs gently at my hair and makes this glorious little whimper, and I respond with a low growl of my own, and pull her tighter against me. I slide my lips down her jaw to nip at her earlobe. Her skin tastes just as divine as her lips do. "Come home with me," I ask, no _beg,_ in her ear. I'm _so_ completely gone for this girl it's crazy. I've never craved anything so much in my entire life as I do her.

She chuckles against me and pulls back, placing her hands on my chest. "No, Anakin."

I frown at her. Why is she playing coy? I know she can feel the chemistry between us just as I do – it sizzles red hot in the air. I've _never_ felt this kind of chemistry with _any_ woman before. "Why not?" I say as I brush my lips again over her sweet mouth.

This time, she steps away so we are no longer touching, and I suddenly ache from the loss of contact. "Because, we've only just met." She's still smiling, but her voice is firm. Final. She's made up her mind.

Still, I have to try. No way am I going to let this perfect angel disappear from my life. "You feel it, don't you?" I whisper, stepping forward to once again take her in my arms. She fits perfectly against me, like she was made just for me. "Why deny it?" I ghost my lips over her cheek and down her neck, feeling her body instinctively respond to me. "I'll make it so, so good for you…"

Padme laughs again softly, and it makes me scowl. "I'm getting a pretty good idea of how this usually works for you," she says, voice filled with mirth, eyes sparkling in amusement. "Does anyone ever tell you 'no'?"

"Why would they?" I demand, suddenly offended. Goddess or not, who was _she_ to question my prowess in the bedroom? I am filled with the sudden urge to take her home and prove her wrong.

"I know your type, Anakin Skywalker" she sighs with a shake of her head. "You think, just because you're incredibly attractive and girls fawn all over you, that you can get whatever you want, whenever you want it." She crosses her arms and fixes me with a firm expression, tilting her head _just so_ as she gazes at me. "Well, I'm not like the _other girls_ you know _._ You'll have to work a lot harder than that to win _me_ over." And then, to my horror, she turns on her heel, finds her girlfriends and whispers something to them, before she leaves the club.

No! She can't leave! How will I ever contact her again? I don't even have her number! I _can't_ let her get away from me! Frantically, I tear after her, desperately pushing my way through the throng of people, until I see her hailing a taxi.

"Padme!" I call after her, and she turns her head, regarding me strangely. "Wait!" A taxi pulls up on the curb, and she glances between it and me, as if weighing up her options. I don't give her any time to decide, because I finally reach her, breathless and panting. I reach out to take her hand, and I realise my own is trembling. "Can I see you again?... _Please_?!" This is a rare moment for me, because I don't date. Ever _._ But, with _her_ it's…different. She does something to me that I can't even begin to explain – only that it's fucking cloud nine. And, I know that I _need_ to see her again.

She closes her eyes and is silent for a long moment. The taxidriver beeps the horn impatiently, but she ignores him. Finally, she opens her eyes, looks deep into mine, and flashes me a teasing smirk, and I feel my insides melt. "Meet me at the little Starbucks on the corner over there, three days from now, at midday," she says, as she points toward the coffee shop across from us on the opposite corner. I glance over at the location she indicated and then back at her. "If I see you there, then I'll know you're serious."

Then, she opens the door of the taxi, slides inside, and is gone. I stare after the cab in awe, rooted to the spot. My hand still tingles from where I touched hers, and I can't believe that I actually feel _butterflies_ in my stomach. Three days. I'll see _her_ again in three more days! I can't wait, and I am suddenly over the moon with excitement. No way will I miss out on this! After that, everything becomes a blur. I don't remember how I get home, don't even register that I _made_ it home until I'm standing in the doorway of my apartment and Ahsoka is staring at me like I've suddenly sprouted antlers.

"What happened to you?" she asks, eyes wide open, gesturing to the dopey expression on my face.

I slump down on the sofa, staring off into nothing in particular. All I can see is the most beautiful face before my eyes; those deep dark brown eyes, and the most delectable rosy lips. _Her._ **ALL** I see is Padme Naberrie.

Blinking my eyes several times, I look up at Ahsoka, completely serious. "I think I'm in love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** After much deliberation, I've decided to up the rating of this story from T to M, just because I think it fits the nature of the story. Thank you so much to all the reviews, follows and favourites already! It blows my mind to have so much support and I'm only one chapter down! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME 3 3 *eternal love*. Please enjoy this next chapter, and my bumbling Ani. He's a jerk, but he's still lovable.

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 **Chapter 2**

Of course, I haven't done my fucking laundry. It's so typical that I let out this maniacal laugh, because it's always the way that when I really, _really_ need something to wear, I've got nothing. Ahsoka's always on my case about being more consistent with my laundry, but that's easy for her to say. She's not even in college yet. I step out of the shower wrapped in nothing but a towel and begin to rummage through the pile of dirty clothes on the floor of my room, trying to find something _, anything_ that isn't too crumbled – because I've only got an hour before I meet _her,_ and I don't have time to iron anything. Almost all the clothes I own are dirty, or have been worn _too_ many times. Fucking great. At least I was able to find a clean pair of boxers, and I hastily put them on.

I _have_ to look good for her. I _have_ to make an effort. I've done nothing but think about her for the last three days. No way will I get a chance with her again if I turn up in a rumpled, smelly, three-day-old t-shirt and jeans that haven't been washed in a week. As I glance around my room, I come to the irritating realisation that I'm going to have to do just that, though, because I have absolutely _nothing_ to wear. I might as well not even bother turning up. She deserves perfection; not a messy university student who can't even bother to do his laundry on a regular basis. I mean, yeah – it's alright if I'm just going around to Aayla's place for lazy afternoon sex, but the thought of _Padme_ seeing me looking less than perfect makes me want to throw myself off the top of my apartment building.

I manage to find one nice t-shirt that isn't crumpled all that much, and I lay it on my bed, smoothing out the creases with the palms of my hands, because I'm really _too_ lazy to iron it, and I've got more important matters to deal with anyway. Like the fact that I have no fucking pants. I curse repeatedly under my breath and drag my hands through my still wet hair. My eyes frantically flick to the digital clock beside my bed. I've already wasted ten fucking minutes looking for pants, which means I only have another twenty or so before I need to get in a cab to make it on time. The _last_ thing I want is to turn up late. She already thinks I'm too insolent to take anything seriously – if her last words to me were any indication, and I don't want to prove her right. I _can't_ miss this!

Ahsoka laughs at me from the door of my room, and I whip my head around to glare at her. "What, _Snips?"_ I snap. Honestly, I'm not in the mood for her shit right now.

She gives a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders and leans against the door frame. Her eyes are dancing with amusement. "God, you really don't stand a chance, do you?"

I growl. "Thanks for the support," I hiss darkly. As if I wasn't already aware that I'm walking on thin ice with Padme as it is. As if I didn't know just _how_ important _this_ date is if I actually wanted to get together with her. Which, I **_do_**. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and she's determined to play hard to get for some reason, and I'm _going_ to pursue her until I win. Nobody turns me down. Ever _._ It just doesn't happen. And, it's going to stay that way.

"Have you ever even _been_ on a real date before?" she asks, a wry smile on her face.

"Of course," I respond immediately. By date, I mean going over to a girl's place and watching Netflix. And, by that, I mean sex. Really, I don't even see the _point_ in going on proper dates _._ They're basically just a screening session for fucking, and I can do that on Tinder without having to make awkward small talk in a place I hate with all those eyes on me.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Seriously, you need to step up your game, Skyguy."

I glare at her. "There's nothing wrong with my _game_ , Snips," I inform her, defending my male pride. Not to brag, but my game is pretty fucking strong. It's not my fault this girl is immune to it…no matter, she won't be able to resist me for long. I'm going to make sure of that. Because I _want her_... **that bad.**

Ahsoka, it seems, is more doubtful and gives me her frank opinion, even though I don't want it, or _need_ it, because she can be a nosy, impertinent brat sometimes. "Right. So,what's your plan, _Prince Charming_? Rock up to Starbucks and woo this girl with your good-looks and charm?"

She says it mockingly, which makes no sense, because that's _exactly_ what I'm going to do. I mean, it's all I have, and it's never been a problem for me before. Perhaps, now that she's not with her friends, she'll drop the act. It must be clear in my face what my answer to her question is, because Ahsoka laughs again, and I grit my teeth.

"Wow, you really, really have _no idea_ how women work, do you, Skyguy?"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" I snap at her. Fucking Ahsoka. Why, oh _why_ , is she so much like me? Of course, it's why we get along so well, because we're both so bluntly honest, but it's times like this when I wish she was more… _mellow_. Like Ben next door…The guy who hasn't been on a date in four years since his ex-girlfriend, Siri. The guy who will probably congratulate me on finally getting my head out of my ass and thinking about more than just sex. No. Instead, I'm stuck with a smartass eighteen-year-old who has as much world experience as tolerance for alcohol, yet thinks she knows everything.

She starts ranting about how I never take her seriously and how she's just _trying to help_ , but I tuned out long ago, because, suddenly, I think I've found the solution to my problem. _Ben_. Not even bothering to tell Ahsoka where I'm going, I push past her and dash out of my apartment towards the one next door. I slam my knuckles frantically against the door, yelling out his name, until it eventually opens.

"Anakin," he greets me, clearly not impressed by the racket I was making, and raises his thick, auburn eyebrows at me. His sea-green eyes take in my dishevelled form, and the fact that I'm literally just in my black boxer shorts, and he sighs, crossing his arms. "Let me guess," he begins dryly. "You forgot to do your laundry again."

I grin. He knows me too well. Ben Kenobi – well, his real name is Obi-Wan, but he changed his name after he finished high school; I don't really blame him. What kind of name is Obi-Wan, anyway? Ben has lived next door to me for the four years I've been in this apartment. He's twenty-seven and a bit of a hipster, with a neatly trimmed auburn beard and a habit of wearing patterned, collared shirts. Even though we're a few years apart, he's one of my best friends. Well, really, he's my _only_ best friend, but I don't dare tell Ahsoka that. She's as jealous and possessive as I am. It would only cause an argument.

"I need to borrow some pants." I don't even bother to hide the urgency in my voice. I'm running on a fucking tight schedule.

Ben shakes his head at me, and it's times like this where I wish I was best friends with someone my own age – someone less likely to be so bemused by my lack of organisation. "Pants, Anakin? Really?"

"Yes," I nod my head vigorously. "It's an emergency." Why the fuck hasn't he let me inside yet? The old lady from down the hall, going on her daily trip to the supermarket, is giving me dark looks, and really, I just want to get out of the drafty hallway.

"It's always an emergency with you, Anakin," he reminds me. Which is true. This isn't the first time I've needed to borrow clothes from Ben because of my lazy laundry habits, and every time, it's always for something really important – like orientation day, or when I have a meeting with my Dean, or like now, when I've got a date. Ben says I'm melodramatic. I just say I'm passionate.

"I know, but it _really_ is this time!," I insist. Does he want me to get on my knees and fucking beg? Because I will. I'll do anything – I'm _that_ desperate to look good for her.

Ben chuckles. "Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to forgo laundry again this week."

I groan in frustration and run a hand through my hair. "Spare me the lecture, would you? I'm in a hurry here, and I need some fucking pants. Are you going to help me, or not?"

He eyes me strangely, but sighs and steps aside, allowing me to enter. It always takes me by surprise how neat his apartment is. I'm positive he doesn't actually live here, and this is just for show, to make people feel inadequate about their own places, or some pretentious shit like that. I mean, _seriously_. It's like I've stepped into one of those designer apartments they advertise on T.V.

He follows me as I head into his bedroom and throw open his wardrobe. "You know, you're at least three inches taller than me, Anakin. This probably isn't going to work."

"Short pants is better than no pants," I explain as I then proceed to take out every single pair of pants that he seems to own and throw them on the bed. I can feel him frowning at the back of my head, but I ignore him. As I sort through them, I find a nice pair of tan-colored khakis, which I know would go well with my black t-shirt that I successfully found this morning. Without even waiting for permission, I hastily pull them on and do them up, looking at myself in the mirror next to his wardrobe. Ben was right, they are a little bit short on me, but I shrug my shoulders and roll up the cuffs. It makes it look like I _bought_ them like that.

"What exactly is this emergency, anyway?" Ben asks, giving me an inquisitive look.

I hesitate, swallowing the lump in my throat. If this is the kind of reaction I get when asking to borrow pants, I don't even want to know what he'll do when I tell him I've got a date. Somehow, dealing with Ahsoka seems like a slightly better option.

I decide to play it casual, and shrug my shoulders lazily. "I've got a date."

I think I can actually hear a pin drop. The silence is almost deafening...literally. Slowly, I turn around to see Ben gawking at me, not even trying to hide his astonishment. Like, somehow it's impossible for me to actually go on dates. I mean, ok...yeah. Sure. It's _never_ happened before, but I don't understand why everyone's so surprised by this. They way they're acting, you'd think I'd just announced I was from another planet or something. _Jesus_. Obviously, they don't know how fucking _gorgeous_ this girl is. He'd understand, if he'd laid eyes on her.

"What?" I lift my eyebrow, challenging him to speak his mind. Which, he does. Of course.

"You've got a _date?_ " He repeats stupidly, as though he hasn't heard correctly.

Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms. "Yes. I have."

"Anakin Skywalker has a date? An actual _date?_ Where you like leave the house and actually go _out_ with a girl kind of date?"

This is getting ridiculous. " **Yes!** " I spit through clenched teeth. "Is that so fucking hard to believe?!"

Ben shrugs, eyeing me strangely. "Well, yes. It is. I don't recall you _ever_ going on a date. _Ever._ " He raises both eyebrows at me and crosses his arms across his chest.

"You haven't seen this girl, Ben," I explain, and _fuck,_ I can hear the awe in my own voice, and I want to slap myself in the forehead. I sound dreamy and lovesick, like a teenage girl with a room full of Zac Efron pictures. Even just _thinking_ about her makes my stomach twist and turn and do a whole host of things it shouldn't. " She's…" Phenomenal. Exquisite. Fucking magnificent. There aren't even enough adjectives to describe her. The English language doesn't do her justice. Padme Naberrie is beyond words.

"I'm guessing she didn't sleep with you, then?" He pesters, an irritating smirk on his face.

I glare at him and grumble a curt "No." The admission makes me flush just a little, because even _now_ I still can't believe she refused me. How Ben managed to deduce that is beyond me.

"Well, well, well….will wonders _never_ cease! This girl must be something. I like her already."

"Why would you say that?" I frown, not sure what he's getting at.

"Because, she's got the guts and the fortitude to actually tell the great Anakin Skywalker 'No.' That's impressive...most impressive." Ben's grin widens. "Don't look now, Anakin, but I think you've _finally_ met your match." He's laughing at me, and I scowl.

But, it's then, as I'm remembering just how fucking amazing her lips felt, _tasted,_ against my own, that my eyes drift to the clock on the wall, and I curse. I need to leave **now** , or I'm going to be late. I mutter a quick 'Thanks' to Ben, though he doesn't seem to appreciate it at all, and sprint back to my own apartment. Once I throw my t-shirt over my head and tuck it into my pants, put on my belt, and slip my feet into a pair of black Converses, I race into my bathroom. My blonde curls have dried oddly, randomly sticking up all over the place - probably because I was practically tearing my hair out looking for pants - so I dip my fingers in some gel and mould it into a presentable shape. Then, I add my Calvin Klein cologne, the one my mom got me for my birthday, and I brush my teeth quickly and add a hint of breath-freshener, because if it comes to locking lips (which I hope it fucking will) then I want to erase the memory of my disgusting alcohol breath from the other night and give her something really good to remember me by.

Glancing again at the time, because I'm so paranoid at this point, I quickly grab my black jacket and put it on, then grab my keys, wallet, and phone, stuff them in the pocket of my pants, and make my way out to the street. Ahsoka wishes me a brusque _"good luck"_ from her bedroom as I head out the door.

For a Tuesday, it takes me longer than I anticipate to hail a taxi. I grow impatient as I stand on the sidewalk outside my apartment building, swearing at yet another taxi driver that decided to drive right past me. I'm definitely going to be late now. Eventually, a cab pulls into the curb, and I wrench open the door and slide in so quickly, barking directions at him with a ferocious urgency that surprises even myself. He nods his head, frowning at my rudeness, and begins his route.

There's traffic. Of course there is. My luck can't possibly get any worse than this, right now, I'm positive. We're about three blocks from the Starbucks and haven't moved in ten minutes. With a growl of frustration, I throw the driver a $20 and leap out of the backseat, tearing my way through the congested New York sidewalk, full of businessmen and women on their lunch breaks, pushing past them insolently because I'm really fucking late. Like, five minutes late, now. She's probably not even going to be there. For some reason, that thought makes me feel sick inside.

I've never run so fast in my life. It's past the point where I care about my appearance; I just want to turn up, to _show_ her that I'm actually serious. The Starbucks is so busy when I arrive that I can't even see her. There's just too many people and the line is fucking ridiculous. Even with my height, I can't pick her out. My heart sinks. She left. She's given up on me. I'll never see her again. I feel myself shatter inside, and I want to let out a cry of rage. _How_ could I have let this happen?! How could I have been so stupid, so _careless_ as to turn up late and miss out on the most perfect girl I've ever met?! I run my hands through my hair and have to fight to suppress the growl of angry frustration I feel. I am _such_ a fucking idiot.

Just as I've resigned myself to the fact that I've just lost the only chance I had of actually getting to know her, I see something out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head so fast I almost give myself whiplash, I see _her_. Her head is tipped downward, and she's peering at me over the top of a pair of dark blue, dainty-rimmed glasses with an expression that can only be described as disappointed. My eyes widen as I take in her appearance. I've never really been into bookish girls, but for some reason, the sight of her wearing glasses makes my cock twitch. Her hair is up in a messy bun. She's wearing small, white-gold stud earrings, a white button-up blouse with a lace trimmed, rounded collar with pearl buttons, a navy blue sweater, and a blue and green plaid skirt that ends at her knees with navy hose and a pair of navy suede slip-on flats. She's gorgeous, in that sexy repressed librarian sort of way, and I find that I like it. A _lot._

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I finally gather up the courage to approach her, because even though she's beautiful, her expression terrifies me. She slowly takes off her glasses and rests them on top of an unnecessarily large textbook that lays open on the table before her, sets her elbows on the table and clasps her hands together. She purses her perfect rosy lips into a thin line, tilting her head to the side and lifts an eyebrow at me.

"You're late."

Well. Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** So, this is a pretty quick update. I'm not going to lie... It's not going to happen often because I'm so busy. But I was just having so much fun writing this that I couldn't stop! I think I need help... This story is taking over my life! I hope you enjoy this. Sassy!Padme is now my most favourite thing ever, apart from Playboy!Anakin. Together, they make a wonderful pair, dontcha think?

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

"You're late."

Her voice is clipped, short and sharp, and it's all I can do not to wince. It doesn't rise above a whisper, but she might as well have shouted at me. I rub the back of my neck sheepishly, trying not to meet her eyes. Instead, I flick my gaze down, to where I see her ankles are crossed elegantly under her chair, and she's tapping one foot against the chair-leg in an even rhythm. It's the only thing that gives away her impatience as she waits for me to speak.

"I know…" I mutter a weak apology. "I'm – I'm sorry." It's pathetic, but I don't really know what else I can say. I mean, I don't want to explain my laundry fiasco, and I'm just so fucking _relieved_ that she's still here, but she deserves something more. "I got held up."

Her lips curl into a smirk. "I'm actually surprised you turned up," she explained, those dark eyes of hers twinkling with amusement. I don't even register the insult. I'm just glad she's not scowling at me anymore. Teasing banter is my forte. I can work with that. I'm _good_ at that.

Flashing her a grin, I wink. "There's no way I'd miss _this._ "

She laughs, like she doesn't believe me, but I don't care, because she's _so stunning_ when she laughs that I lose myself for a moment and take the opportunity just to watch her. It's when she stops and fixes me with a strange look that I realise I'm still standing next to the table, looking like an idiot.

Smoothing a hand through my hair, I give a sort of half-cough and stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "You want a drink?," I ask casually. Buying her a coffee is the least I can do after turning up late.

She shakes her head and smiles wryly at me, like she finds the whole situation incredibly amusing. Some of her hair escapes her bun and falls around her face in these cute little ringlets which I have an urge to touch, to tug on, to slip through my fingers. "I've already ordered." I can hear the accusation in her tone of voice, the _while I was waiting for you_ , that hangs in the air, and I shift uncomfortably. "But, you can go and order, if you like." It's a challenge, a test, I can tell. Though _what_ exactly she's testing me on is beyond me. I'm ridiculously out of my depth here, and it's unnerving.

"Alright. I'll be right back."

As I walk to the back of the line and decide what to order, I can't help but flick my eyes back over to her. Her head is bent over her textbook, glasses resting gently on the bridge of her perfect nose, and she leans her head on her hand, the other playing an idle rhythm against the table. The way she moves her fingers gracefully, _flawlessly_ , makes me wonder if she's ever played the piano. It also makes me wonder what other things she can do with her hands, but I quickly discard such thoughts, because it's clear, from the way this date has started off, that the _only_ part of me she'll touch with her hands is my face when she slaps me. Which, she would probably do if she could read my thoughts right now.

I finally make it up to the register and order my regular Grande black. The cashier is a girl no older than Ahsoka, and she eyes me shamelessly as she takes my order, flashing me a flirty grin. Normally, I would flirt back, because she's a pretty thing, but suddenly, glancing back over at Padme, it just doesn't feel right to be flirting with other girls for some reason, and I don't want Padme to get upset with me. I want her to think I'm better than that. So, I ignore the girl's advances, hand her a $5 and give her my name. I walk back to Padme with a little proud spring in my step, pleased with myself for not flirting with that girl.

She doesn't look up as I sit opposite her, so I take the opportunity to peer over the top of her book. _Women's Human Rights and the Politics of Representation._ The title makes me cringe. Not only does it sound unbelievably boring, but it suddenly makes me realise I'm in the presence of a feminist. No wonder she refused to come home with me. It all makes sense now. She probably _loathes_ guys like me. I decide not to dwell on that, and instead, observe her as she reads. Her eyelashes are incredibly long, even though she's wearing a touch of mascara, and they cast dainty shadows across her pale cheeks. Her eyes dart back and forth at an impressive rate – I'm surprised she can actually take anything in.

It's mesmerising, the way her tongue sneaks out to wet her lip, or how she sucks it between her teeth, or how her eyebrows furrow when she comes across something interesting. I could watch her for hours. She finally notices me and looks up, momentarily surprised to see me sitting there. There's a lost, dreamy expression on her face, like she was so caught up in her reading that she forgot where she was. It's so fucking cute.

"That didn't take long," she stated, sitting back and shutting her book. I notice how she removes her glasses, and I feel a pang of disappointment. They look so sexy on her.

I feel the need to inform her of that fact. "Why'd you take your glasses off?"

"They're for reading only," she explains with a shrug. "And, I don't really like wearing them."

Her cheeks flush this pale shade of pink, and it's so adorable that she's insecure about them that I give her a genuine smile. "You should wear them more often. They look amazing on you."

The honesty of my compliment takes her by surprise, and her mouth parts into an 'oh', and I swear my heart stops beating. After a few seconds, she smiles at me, and it's so breathtaking that it disarms me completely. "Thank you," she says softly, like she is truly touched I would compliment her on her glasses. Honestly, does this girl ever look in a mirror? How is it she is so unaware of how perfect she is?

Our eyes lock for a moment, and I feel it again, that connection I felt the other day at the club, and I wonder if she feels it, too. I've never felt anything like this before. Ever. It's…it's too much, and I have no fucking clue what it means.

I decide to change the subject, to steer clear of anything that elicits _those_ kind of feelings, and gesture to her textbook. "What are you reading that for?"

Her face lights up immediately, and I know I've asked a good question. "It's for my class: _Globalisation, International Structural Adjustment and Gender Inequality in Politics._ "

I gape at her, unable to keep the shock off my face. My first thought is, _WHAT kind of course is that?_ But, I refrain from blurting that out, because I don't want to offend her. My expression makes her laugh again, but this time, it's genuine, not because she's making fun of me. It's progress, at least.

"I know, it's a mouthful," she says with a blinding grin. "Basically, it's just about women in politics, from an international perspective."

It's cute, how she thinks by explaining it, it makes her choice of subjects easier to understand, but it doesn't. But, I find I can't judge her, not even in the slightest, because she looks so excited, so happy, that it's addictive.

"That's...interesting," I try to sound genuine, but she sees right through me in an instant. Surprisingly, though, she's not offended. Merely amused.

"You don't have to pretend," she tells me with a smirk and leans forward on her elbows, her chin propped up on her hands. "I know how it sounds."

I give a nervous laugh. "What's your major?"

"International Relations." Her brown eyes sparkle. "I'm looking into research about the empowerment of women in politics, particularly in underdeveloped countries. I did some volunteer work in Tanzania last year, and it was _such_ an eye opener! In some of those tribes, the women are seen as nothing but child-bearers. They don't get a say _in anything._ I mean, that's ridiculous, right? They _live_ there and contribute to the society and the well-being of the tribe. They should have _some_ input into how things are run…" she catches herself and pauses, blushing furiously, and flicks her eyes down to the table, adorably shy and insecure, and I just want to seize her in my arms and kiss her. It's so unbelievably sexy to hear her speak like that; all passionate and hopeful and righteous. There's this fire in her eyes that arouses me to no end. I'm suddenly consumed with the need to hear her talk _more_ about women's rights, just to see her look like that.

"Sorry," she mutters in embarrassment, clasping her hands together on the table. Her thumbs tap together, and I reach my hand across the table, gently closing it around the both of hers, and smile at her. She flicks her eyes down at the contact before meeting mine, blinking up at me through her long, beautiful eyelashes, and I melt.

"Don't be," I tell her, softly, unsure where this soft side of me is coming from, but the way she's looking at me makes me lose my grip on the nonchalant act I've been trying to keep up since I arrived. "I think that's wonderful."

She beams at me, revealing her perfect, white teeth, and my stomach does that little flip-flop again. I give her hands a quick squeeze, trying not to focus on how smooth her skin is underneath my own calloused fingers, or how touching her sets my nerves on fire. Then, I withdraw, because I don't want it to become awkward. "Thank you," she says in a small voice.

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, doing my best to maintain my cool composure. _Control yourself, Skywalker,_ I scold firmly. "So, where are you studying?" I ask, deciding it's safer for me if I just change the subject.

"Columbia."

You've _got_ to be kidding me! She goes to _Columbia?!_ How is it I've never seen her round campus before?! I would have remembered her. I _know_ I would have! Hers is a face that is impossible to forget. "What a coincidence," I grin. "So do I."

That seems to surprise her, and her eyebrows recede into her hairline, and her mouth forms that perfect little 'oh' again. "Really? What's your major?"

I flash her a sly smirk. "Mechanical Engineering."

The astonishment on her face is both hilarious and adorable at the same time, and I feel the urge to kiss her again. Her gorgeous brown eyes widen considerably, and she stares at me with parted lips, her head tilted to the side. "Well...Wow," she exhales after a while. "That's rather impressive." There's a slight hesitation though, as though she's refraining from speaking what's _really_ on her mind. It intrigues me. I want to know what she thinks of this.

"Is that really so hard to believe?," I quirk an eyebrow, taunting her, and she takes the bait, blushing again. Fuck, the amount of times I've made her blush, and I haven't even _kissed her_ yet. It makes me wonder what would happen if I did kiss her, or if I slipped my hand up her blouse and toyed with her nipple, or if I fingered her under her skirt, and my mouth suddenly goes dry thinking about it.

My sinful thoughts are interrupted when I hear her nervous laughter, spilling from her lips like a symphony. Honestly, she has the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. I suddenly want to hear her moaning in ecstacy from beneath me as I fuck her. I want to hear her screaming my name as I eat her out. I want to hear her panting with need in my ear, begging for my cock. The thought makes me grow hard, _instantly_ , and I'm so fucking glad that I'm sitting down right now and she can't see me.

Padme tucks a stray curl behind her ear in such an adorable way, that I suddenly feel _dirty_ for thinking about her this way. She's so pure, so untouchable, an _angel_ if there ever was one _,_ and I'm the devil headed straight for hell. "Well, no...You just don't strike me as the 'engineer' type," she rationalises pragmatically with another shrug, and I can't help but chuckle.

"What type is that, exactly?"

She bites her lip, and my cock almost bursts through my pants. _Fuck_ , she has no idea what it does to me when she does _that._ "Oh…Y'know…Suit and tie, briefcase, dedicated, introverted, serious…"

"Terrible at talking to women," I add cheekily, unable to stop myself from winking at her, which makes her roll her eyes. "I know, I'm _none_ of those things. Go _figure._ "

"Well, you're definitely arrogant enough to be an engineer," she teases. "And, I don't know _how_ you think you're good at talking to women. That _terrible_ line you gave me the other night had my girlfriends in stitches for almost an hour."

I scowl at her. She's downright _cheeky,_ and as much as it irritates me, I _love it!_ For a bookish feminist, she's so interesting to talk to. I could do this for hours, this playful banter we have going on, which is _so fucking weird_ , because I normally hate talking. This is going way better than I thought it would. Maybe I actually stand a chance with this girl.

"I admit…It wasn't my finest hour… But, don't go spreading that around," I mock warn firmly with a waggle of my finger at her,"I have a reputation to uphold here."

Her lips curl into a playful smirk, her eyes dancing with mischief. She shrugs her shoulders again. "Hey, I'm doing a public service here. Sparing the girls in this city from the horror of having to listen to _you_ spring another _god awful_ line on them."

I mirror her smirk, leaning forward on my forearms so I'm only inches from her face. Her sweet-smelling perfume washes over me, and it's intoxicating. "You didn't seem to mind all that much," I remind her, raising my eyebrow suggestively. "You agreed to see me again. So, I think my 'god awful' line worked just fine."

She snorts and rolls her eyes, and her nose crinkles adorably, yet she moves closer. I can feel her mint-fresh breath on my lips, and I ache to kiss her again, to _taste her_. "Don't flatter yourself. Alcohol tends to cloud my judgement." The challenge swims in her eyes, and I meet her resolve forcefully. Her dry humour and quick wit impresses me – if possible, I'm even _more_ attracted to her than I was the other night. And this time, it has absolutely nothing to do with her divine looks. Her passion, her fire, her spirit – it draws me in like a moth to flame, and I find myself hopeless against it's gravity.

Our moment is interrupted by a waitress approaching our table, coughing rudely, and it's only once we jump apart that I realise we'd been so _close_ to each other, locking eyes for a few minutes at the very least. Padme has the decency to blush, and I run a hand through the back of my hair, darting my eyes up to the waitress.

"Hazelnut latte, non-fat, with whipped cream?" She declares in a bored monotone, picking at her fingernails as she holds the tray with the drink in the other.

"Yes, thank you," Padme nods her head, all polite and demure, and I watch, bemused, as the waitress puts the drink down in front of her and then walks away. It's possibly the most pretentious drink I've ever seen, and I can't help but snort at the sight of it. She frowns at me, tipping her head to the side. "Is something funny?" She demands.

I just shake my head and laugh. "What's the point of having non-fat milk, when you have whipped cream? Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose of 'non-fat'?"

She rolls her eyes and swirls her straw around, gathering whipped cream along the straw, before bringing it up to her mouth, and then, in possibly the most erotic way I've ever seen, she places the straw in her mouth and licks all around it, sucking the cream off, and I'm paralysed. I can't help but think about those lush red lips wrapped around my cock, and I shift in my seat, willing my cock to stand down. Of course, she doesn't realise she's doing anything even _slightly_ provocative and makes this little sound of exasperation in the back of her throat.

"I have non-fat, so that I _can_ have whipped cream," she explains like she's talking to a child. "It balances everything out, that way."

The fact that she has actually thought about this in such a pragmatic way makes me laugh again. She's probably the most rational person I think I've ever met, and, compared to my own carefree existence, it amuses me. She sacrificed her normal milk for non-fat _just_ so she could top her coffee with whipped cream, and yet still keep the calories balanced. Where as, I would have just had both. I take what I want.

My drink arrives a few moments later, and the same bored waitress places it unceremoniously in front of me before walking away. The heavy, strong scent of my coffee instantly hits my nostrils, and I can't help but inhale deeply. I love strong coffee. Padme eyes me strangely as I take my first sip, and I laugh at the cute expression on her face. How is it possible for one girl to be both cute _and_ sexy?

"You have the most boring coffee order," she observes curiously, when I tilt my head in question.

Shrugging my shoulders, I incline my head towards her elaborate concoction. "Not all of us need all that extra sugar and flavouring and _whipped cream_ ," I flash her a grin which she returns, impishly. "I'm a simple guy with simple needs. I like simple coffee."

She takes a sip through her straw, before her tongue licks out to rid of the excess milk and cream that decorate her upper lip, and I watch her with darkened eyes, wanting to do that myself. "I think I know all about your _simple needs_ , Anakin Skywalker." She's mocking me, but all I can think is, _Fuck, please say my name again._ It sounds so perfect dripping from her sweet lips. I never want to hear my name spoken aloud again by anyone but _her._ "You made _those_ perfectly clear the other night." She looks at me with a lift of her eyebrow, her lips twitching.

The tone of her voice is light and teasing, but for some reason, it makes me feel suddenly...guilty. Only now do I realise that I was acting like a massive jerk and had seriously disrespected her the other night. Padme deserves the slow, sweet courtship from an old-fashioned black and white movie, not a drunken one-night-stand with me. I've never done it before, but I'm suddenly realising that maybe I can give that to her, if I really try. God _knows_ I want to keep seeing her – whether she knows it or not, she's got me wrapped around her little finger so tight. I'm completely under her spell, and while that thought alone terrifies me, I find the change new and exciting. I _want_ to see where this leads. I want to give it a shot. At least, until I fuck it up somehow. Let's face it; she's way out of my league. I will _definitely_ do something to fuck it up. It's just a matter of time.

I rub my neck again (I really need to stop doing that) and glance at her, sheepishly. "I'm sorry," I apologise, completely sincere because I **am** sorry. "I… I didn't mean to offend you, Padme. I just…"

Unexpectedly, she slips her hand into mine, and I freeze at the contact. It's such a kind gesture, as she gives it a gentle squeeze, and I look up to meet her eyes. There's the most beautiful smile on her face, full of compassion and _warmth,_ and it flows right through me. I could drown in those eyes, and I wouldn't even notice.

"It's alright, Anakin. You didn't offend me," she laughs softly. "Actually, I found it rather...amusing. You're very persistent, you know."

"You're very beautiful," I counter, and the low timbre of my voice makes her blush again. Her reaction emboldens me, and I decide to grasp at the opportunity. It's now or never, right? "What are you doing later?" The question slips out, and I try to sound seductive, but I just sound desperate. Fucking great. "We could grab a bite to eat, or something?"

At first, I think she will actually take me up on my offer, because her eyes widen and the corners of her mouth twitch up a little, into a smile, and my heart soars in my chest. I've done it. I've asked her out. On an honest-to-goodness date. For real. And, to my surprise, it feels... _amazing._ Until, her expression falters, and a little frown mars her delicate features.

"I… _can't_ ," she explains miserably. _Miserably._ She's actually disappointed that she can't come. "I've got this big dinner at my parents' place tonight. Sorry."

 _Well, fuck._ That ruins that. I did so well, too. "Oh, no worries," I nod my head, trying not to sound so dejected. "What's the occasion?"

"My sister's an attorney, and she was just made senior partner at her law firm," her voice is filled with pride, but I can sense a hint of something else there. Is that… Resentment? Is the self-righteous Padme Naberrie _jealous_? I have to find out.

"That's a pretty big deal," I admit, probing her just a little to see her reaction. My bait is well planted, she takes it unknowingly.

She nods in agreement. "Yeah, it is. She's only thirty-two, _and_ she's a woman as well." I can't help but smirk at the comment. Of _course,_ she would add _that_. It's so fitting it's hilarious. "We're all so proud of her."

I lift an eyebrow casually. "Do I sense a little resentment, Padme?" I tease.

Her face turns red, and it's not the delicate blush of a well-placed compliment, but the fierce embarrassment of being caught out. "Of course not!" She cries in defence. "I don't resent Sola. I love her."

"But?" I voice the unspoken conjunction that lingers after her statement.

She sighs and tucks another lock of hair behind her ear and looks down at the table. "She's…Well, she's got _everything_ , you know?" I'm interested to hear what she means by _everything._ To me, having everything would mean having _her_. Suddenly, it all comes rushing out of her, like a wave she's hopeless to stop, and I sit there, listening to her in partial curiosity and partial amusement as she rants about her sister. "The perfect job, the perfect husband, the perfect apartment in the city. And, she's got two adorable daughters as well. _Plus_ , she followed the family tradition of going to Harvard Law, so that's just the icing on the cake, isn't it?"

Once she's finished her speech, she sits back and huffs. A glorious little pout forms on her lips, and it's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen. My lips _ache_ to be on hers, to kiss that pout away and taste her.

"I take it your parents wanted you to go to Harvard Law as well?" I can guess as much, from what she's just told me.

Padme nods her head slowly. "I was primed for Harvard Law," she admits, a little bitterly. "I went to one of those top private schools here in the city, where they _groom_ you for an Ivy League University. And, having both grandfathers, parents, and an older sister as lawyers, it was just assumed I would do the same." She fiddled with her straw and took another sip, before continuing. "I _never_ wanted that. When I sent in my application to Columbia for International Relations, I just _knew_ my parents' were disappointed. They'll never admit to it, but I can just tell who the 'favourite' daughter is."

For someone who was so optimistic mere seconds ago, it's a little shocking to see her so deflated. I take her hand again, run my fingers over her dainty knuckles in an attempt to soothe her. She looks up at my touch. "Well, I haven't met your sister, but I know who _my_ favourite is."

Her face brightens into a brilliant smile, and I feel my pulse pounding loudly in my ears at the sight. A look of pure gratitude lights up her entire face, and she's so stunning, so _unbelievably beautiful_ , that I can't even believe that she's here, sitting across from me, _smiling_ at me. I want to make her smile like that every day for the rest of my life. I could live by the light in her eyes, I just know it.

Tearing her eyes away from mine for a second, she glances down at the watch on her wrist and sighs heavily. Her hand leaves mine, and I suddenly feel bare, _alone_ , without it. "I've got to get back to campus," she explains, though I don't miss the melancholy smile on her face. "I've got a late class this afternoon." She bends down to pick up her bag off the floor, and stuffs her enormous textbook inside, before looking back at me. "This was really nice, Anakin," she says sweetly and stands up, smoothing down her skirt and hauling her bag over her shoulder. "It was… Different than what I expected."

I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I decide to keep positive and flash her a knowing grin. "So, does that mean I can see you again?" I ask as I stand up, towering over her petite form in a way that appeals to my masculine ego. I keep it cool, acting as casual as possible, but inside I'm practically _begging_ her. There's no way I can let her go _now_.

She regards me curiously, as though she's contemplating the idea, before smiling shyly up at me. "I'd like that."

Hearing her say those words makes me want to cry out in happiness. I almost pump my fist in the air, but refrain from doing so. Instead, I give her the best smile I can muster, hoping it comes across as charming. Together, we walk out of Starbucks and onto the side walk.

"How about dinner? Friday night?"

Of course, she has to pull out her cellphone and check her schedule on her datebook app, which makes me chuckle because she's so organised, and it's adorable, before nodding. "Friday is great. What did you have in mind?"

Chewing on my lip, I try to think of somewhere appropriate to take her. I hardly ever go out to eat, especially not in a _dating_ situation, but suddenly, I am struck with, what I _think,_ is a fairly romantic idea. Somewhere I frequent quite a lot. "Have you ever been to Max Soho's?" It's Italian, and it's a pretty nice place, and it's not too pricey. "I get take out there all the time."

Her eyes light up immediately, and I cheer internally at choosing well. "Oh, I _love_ their food!" She gushes adorably. "I just _adore_ their Rigatoni alla Siciliana. It's _wonderful!_ "

 _Fuck, yes!_ "Great! So…Friday? 7:30?" I can't believe this is happening. I'm _so_ over the fucking moon right now, I can barely keep it together! My hands are literally shaking with anticipation.

She beams up at me. "That sounds perfect. I'll meet you there."

I hail a cab for her, and open the door, and she turns, just before she goes to slide in, and the way she's looking at me makes my heart race so fast in my chest, it's about to burst through my ribcage. "Well… Goodbye, Anakin," she says. "I'll see you soon."

Then, just as I think she's about to leave, she stretches up on her toes and kisses my cheek. I barely register anything after that. I just stare after her retreating cab, with this dumb expression on my face. My fingers touch my cheek where her lips were on my skin, and I caress it almost reverently. My skin just _tingles_ where her lips brushed against it.

I can't fucking wait until Friday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Wow. Okay. The support I have for this story already is PHENOMENAL! Thank you so much! Honestly, it means so much to me! I LOVE YOU ALL! But... Because I'm still a person and feel like I have every right to defend myself, let me just say this one thing...

To the next person who hates on me because I'm updating this story and not my others, let me just say this. Writing is bloody hard. It's draining. It's straining. Inspiration is fleeting, and sometimes it's THERE and sometimes it's NOT. Especially with long, multi-chapter stories. Only people who have actually written these, or attempted to write them know what I mean. I am an extremely busy individual - anyone who knows me in real life will understand that I'm working 2 jobs and am completing a full time university degree and I play a tonne of sport as well. My schedule is jammed packed. So I write when I have time. It's a hobby, a way for me to relieve stress. So I do not appreciate readers putting stress on me to update faster or more, when I'm just not _feeling it._ My life is stressful enough as it is; I don't need writing to suddenly become a source of it too.I'm not just going to write something terrible that I'm not proud of, or that's half completed, just because a few individuals get shirty at me. I'm sorry, but that's just not how I work. I'm enjoying writing this at the moment! It's fun and a lot less depressing and angsty than TGFH and less difficult to write than infinite. Just because my focus is here for now, doesn't mean that I'm not still chipping away at new updates for my other stories. Because I AM (just ask my beta ;) ) I'm just redirecting my focus based on my inspiration, and running with it.

So. Yes. That's all I have to say. Please do not put hate on my stories. Criticise my writing style, my weird Australian slang that sometimes crops up accidentally, my spelling, even my PLOT. But DO NOT critise my updating! I'm a free spirit, mate.

Please and thank you :)

And on that awfully cheerful note *cough cough* please enjoy this next update!

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

I'm not even home for a second before Ahsoka is on me, pouncing on me like a tiger on it's prey, and I am helpless against the onslaught of her _pestering_. She fires the questions at me so fast, I barely even have time to register them. It's relentless.

"Let me get through the door, will you?" I sigh in exasperation, and it shuts her up, for the moment anyway. But, from the way her lips are twitching, I know it's _killing_ her to keep quiet, and the thought makes me grin.

She huffs and crosses her arms, following me as I walk into the kitchen and dump my keys on the counter and then head into my bedroom. I really need to do my laundry, and since I have the rest of the afternoon free, there's no better time than now. Still, she follows me, making all these impatient sighs and groans, tapping her fingers against her forearm while I throw my clothes into an empty wash basket.

"Can I talk now?" She demands, pouting at me. I look up at her from my crouched position on the floor, watching in amusement as she flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and fixes with me such a firm expression in her large, blue eyes that I decide to finally relent.

Shaking my head, I smirk. " _Fine._ "

A mad grin breaks out on her face, and she immediately sits on the end of my bed, crossing her legs and arms and peering at me with eager fascination. "So? How did it go? Did she totally hate you for turning up late? I bet she did! Did you get her number? Are you going to see her again?"

I roll my eyes and stand up, tucking the wash basket under my arm. "Slow _down_ , Snips. One at a time."

Ahsoka exhales sharply through her nose, but nods her head. "Fine. How was it, then?"

"Good." I shrug my shoulders, purposefully giving her as little information as possible because I enjoy frustrating her. It's a game the two of us play – our entire relationship is based on teasing and insults, yet we are probably closer than if we were blood related. We just get each other.

My response makes her groan in annoyance, and it only makes me grin impishly at her. She's such an easy target, so feisty and easily aggravated, that I just can't help myself.

"Ugh, you're _so_ fucking annoying," she huffs petulantly at me. "Come on! Give me _something_ here. What's she like?"

At the mention of _her,_ a dreamy expression crosses my face, and my thoughts cloud over and that dopey grin appears on my face again. I zone out for a few moments, as her face materialises before my eyes. I remember her bright eyes, stunning smile, her quick banter, her gorgeous laughter...It makes my head spin.

Clicking fingers bring me back to reality to see Ahsoka waving her hands in front of my face. " _Hello_?! Earth to Anakin?!"

"Sorry," I apologise, my voice breaking as I say the words. I'm not really sorry at all, and Ahsoka knows it, but she only shakes her head at me. It's not _my_ fault Padme is so fucking perfect. I can't be held responsible for the things she does to me. It's entirely unfair really.

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. "Did you even _hear_ me? I asked you what she's _like_."

I hesitate at her question. What's she _like?_ She's unlike anyone I've _ever_ met before. There just aren't enough words in any spoken language that can accurately describe Padme Naberrie. She's something else, in a league of her own. A league so far above my own that it's embarrassing. So, I just start blurting out adjectives. "She's…" My eyes glaze over as I remember the fire in her eyes when she started talking about her passion for women's rights and equality, and I have to force my mouth to move. "Intelligent. And, so compassionate. And witty. And sweet. And elegant. And funny. And..." I pause as I struggle to think of more adequate words, and Ahsoka just stares at me slackjawed with these wide, incredulous eyes.

I tip my head to the side at her expression. "What?!"

The way she's looking at me, I might as well have been speaking another language. "Hold up," she says, raising a hand, and I decide to keep quiet. "Who _are_ you, and what have you done with Anakin Skywalker?"

I snort. "What the fuck are you talking about, Snips?"

She shakes her head. "I ask you about this girl, and the first word out of your mouth is she's _intelligent,_ " she drawls, like it's a big deal.

I respond with a lazy shrug of my shoulders. "Well, she is. What's wrong with that?" To my mind, _nothing._ In fact, it's a _huge_ fucking turn on for me, but I decide to keep that to myself. Ahsoka is surprised enough as it is.

"Nothing," she assures me with a slight shake of her head, though her tone of voice says the exact opposite. "I'm just used to you describing girls in 'degrees of hotness', that's all."

I shake my head. "She's not… _hot._ " It's so wrong, so vulgar to use that term. It doesn't encompass her beauty. "She's… _beautiful_. Elegant. Classy. Refined. Like…," I trail off as I try to find an appropriate comparison. "Like Audrey Hepburn in _Breakfast at Tiffanies_." I finish with a nod, pleased with myself. Now that I think about it, Padme really **is** very Audrey-esque…Not only does she look an awful lot like her, but even in her mannerisms and the way she holds herself, carries herself, she's like Audrey. Like a lady from the bygone era of black-and-white films.

Ahsoka raises an eyebrow at me. "I never would've pegged you for a _Breakfast at Tiffanies_ kinda guy," she smirks.

"It's Mom's favourite movie," I reply nonchalantly. "Every year she makes me watch it with her on her birthday."

She clearly doesn't believe me, I can tell, but she says nothing more on that matter and rests her chin on her hands, blinking up at me like a child. "So, you're dating a _proper_ lady, then."

I run a hand through my hair. "Well, I wouldn't say we're _dating…_ " Even though I suddenly realize I **really** want to. She's so intriguing to me. I _have_ to continue to see her. I want to find out all about her...her little quirks and secret habits, her hobbies, her likes and dislikes...y'know, what makes her _tick._ I want to unravel the mystery that is _her_...to uncover every inch of her soul until it's naked and bare just for me...and me _alone_. And, that fact startles me a bit...but not unpleasantly so. I wouldn't mind having _her_ naked and bare before me, either, I'm not going to lie. Underneath all her high-necked dresses and modest blouses, I can tell she's got a fucking beautiful body, and I want to see it, taste it, explore it, map every single inch of her flawless ivory skin with my lips and tongue and hands and commit it to memory. I want to _worship_ her, like the goddess she is.

"Are you going to see her again?"

A dopey grin breaks out on my face that I'm hopeless to stop. What the _fuck_ is happening to me? "Yeah. We made plans for Friday night."

Ahsoka's eyes widen, and she smiles widely at me. "Ooooh, a second date!," she coos with glee, clapping her hands together excitedly. She's practically bouncing on the bed, and I roll my eyes at her antics. Between the two of us, we could probably cast our own Broadway production. "That's promising. _Very_ promising." Then, she flicks me a wry smirk. "I guess I was wrong to judge your game after all, Skyguy."

I swallow uncomfortably. "My _game_ had nothing to do with it. Padme…She's...Well, she doesn't appreciate things like that. She's…Different than any girl I've ever known before, Snips. She's _perfect._ And, way too fucking good for me." And, _that's_ a massive understatement if I do say so myself.

"Wow! That's certainly something I never thought I'd hear _you_ say. A girl is _too good_ for the great Anakin Skywalker? THIS is a first, that's for sure." Her eyes flash with amusement, and a mocking smile plays at her lips.

I glare at her. "Fuck off." She just barks a laugh, ignoring me completely.

"So, where are you taking her?" She asks, conveniently changing the subject. I sigh. Honestly, doesn't she know that curiosity killed the cat? Apparently not.

"Max Soha's."

"Ah," Ahsoka nods appreciatively. It's a place we frequent often, mainly for takeout because neither of us can really be bothered to actually go out for dinner, and it's our favourite place for Italian food. It's got that homey, family vibe to it, hearty and flavoursome."Nice choice."

Her approval isn't needed, but I'm glad for it anyway. "Yeah, I thought it was a good idea. Turns out Padme goes there quite often herself and loves it, so that was lucky." When I'd first suggested it, I'd been worried that she would think it was too casual. That she'd be one of _those_ girls that expects fine dining or something – which I'd take her to if she wanted it, because I just want the chance to see her again – but I'm glad she'd been so pleased with the suggestion. It had surprised me, a great surprise, really, making her even more perfect in my eyes. We like the same food. That's a step in the right direction. And, my wallet had definitely been happy with the decision.

"You still haven't told me what she's _like_ ," Ahsoka pouts at me, tilting her head at me in that way of hers that grates on my nerves.

I sigh. She's never going to give this up until she's actually met her, and that is **not** happening any time soon...not if I can help it. Ahsoka is…a handful…and even though I love her like she's my kid sister, she can be a bit much sometimes. I don't want her to say something to Padme that will make her want to stop seeing me; like outing my bad habits, or my laziness...or _worse_ , the number of women I've slept with. Which is something Ahsoka would do, simply because she'd think it was funny.

"Can I do my laundry first?," I gesture to the basket of clothes under my arm.

She leaps to her feet and flicks her hair off her shoulder. "You know what? I'll come with you."

Great. Just great. There's no escaping it, I realise. Ahsoka Tano is _so_ fucking persistent, a trait she picked up from me, no doubt. Our mothers have _always_ complained that we are too much alike, but it wasn't until she moved in with me that I realised it myself. The only thing we _aren't_ similar in is our laundry habits – a difference that drives her insane.

Realising I have no choice but to let her come with me, because she'd do it with or without my permission, regardless, I nod in defeat and head out to the kitchen, grab the laundry detergent from under the sink and my keys, and we head out the door towards the stairs. She falls into step beside me. Our apartment building is _old_. So old, in fact, that we don't even have an elevator. Not that I complain much about using stairs, because it doesn't really phase me as often as I workout…well, until laundry day. But, try navigating narrow stairs with arms full of clothes. Honestly, it's ridiculous. And today, it doesn't help that Ahsoka _insists_ on walking beside me, giving me hardly any room to manoeuvre through the stairwell. I can barely see where I'm going, and just hope that I don't trip and fall.

The laundry room is empty when we arrive, which makes me sigh in relief. Nothing is more awkward than doing your laundry in front of other people… Especially when they watch you take your underwear out. The judgement is humiliating. Ahsoka promptly seats herself atop one of the washing machines, drawing one leg up to her chest and letting the other dangle precariously over the end. I scoff at her and set my basket down beside the adjacent machine. As I sort through my lights from my darks, she starts humming an annoying tune under her breath, grating on my nerves. Sometimes, I swear, she does things like this _just_ to rile me up, but I can't really complain. I do it to her, as well.

Once my washing is set and going, she crosses her arms and fixes me with a determined expression. "Right. Start talking."

I roll my eyes, but can't help the smirk that curls my lips. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

She chews on her lip for a moment, as though deep in thought, before nodding her head. Luckily for me, she starts with an easy question. "What does she do?"

"She's at Columbia, too; International Relations."

Her expression lifts considerably. "Oh my _god,_ that's _so_ cute! You'll be able to go on cute little dates during breaks!" She's gushing, and I shake my head at her. "Ooooh, and just _think_ of the steamy make out sessions in the library!"

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Snips," I warn her with a wry twist of my lips, though the warning is meant more for me than her. I can't get too carried away with this girl. If it doesn't work out… "We've been on _one_ date."

She dismisses the comment with a wave of her hand. "So, is she well off?"

I balk at her bluntness. She has no tact whatsoever. "Ahsoka!," I run a hand through the back of my hair. "That's _not_ something you really ask on a first date!"

"I'm guessing she is," she continues, as though she didn't even hear me. "I mean, Columbia is an _Ivy League_ , not _everyone_ can just go there. But, maybe she's on a scholarship like you?"

I decide not to comment when she's like this. So, I just stand there and shove my hands in my pockets.

"So, is that really all you know about her?" She asks pointedly. "That she's at Columbia? _God,_ you're _hopeless,_ Skyguy! First dates are where you ask all the important questions!"

Shrugging my shoulders, I lean up against the washing machine. "I know that all of her family are lawyers except her, and they all went to Harvard Law. That she's really passionate about women's rights and equality. That she did volunteer work in Tanzania last year. And, that she likes whipped cream with her lattes and rigatoni from Max's."

Ahsoka blinks at me, like I'm missing something important. "Okay, so she's a saint. But, what are her bad points? Her _flaws?_ "

I frown at her. "Padme has no flaws. She's _perfect._ "

" _Everyone_ has flaws, Skyguy."

"Not her," I retort immediately, and it's the complete truth. I doubt I could _ever_ find a flaw in her; she's an _angel._ Angels are perfect, and Padme is no exception. Everything about her is just so… _pure._

Ahsoka, it seems, is determined to prove me wrong, and she suddenly hops off the washing machine. "Okay. It's time for an intervention," she declares. "Wait here."

Before I even have time to ask her where the fuck she's going, she disappears upstairs, and I'm left alone in the basement. Not that I really mind, but I'm suddenly concerned about what Ahsoka deems as an _intervention_. It's a little worrying. I mean, I know she means well, but her methods are sometimes a little… _Unorthodox_.

She returns moments later with her laptop and a mischievous grin, and I'm instantly concerned. Whatever is going on in that sly, little mind of hers _cannot_ be good. Retaking her position atop the washing machine, she opens her laptop on her knees and smirks impishly at me over the screen.

" _Why_ do you have your laptop?" I ask with a lift of my eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest.

Her smirk grows even wider. "We're going to _Facebook_ stalk her," she explains with an air of accomplishment that only makes me gawk at her.

 _Now,_ I've heard everything. _Facebook_ stalking _?_ Seriously? She's resorting to _that?_ There's no way in fucking hell that I will do such a thing. It's an invasion of privacy! Padme doesn't deserve to have Ahsoka snooping through her internet life just so that she can prove me wrong.

"No," I shake my head firmly, putting my foot down. "We're not _Facebook_ stalking her."

Ahsoka pouts, casting me a sideways glance. "C'mon, Skyguy! You _know_ you want to. Don't you wanna find _some_ kinda dirt on her?"

She's fucking insufferable. "I doubt there's going to be any _dirt_ on her _Facebook_ page, Snips. She doesn't seem like the type."

Still, she persists. "Well, what are you worried about then?" Her fingers start typing away frantically, and there's basically nothing I can do to stop her now. I heave a sigh, which she ignores. I mean, yeah, I could throw her laptop out the window, but then I'd never hear the end of it until I bought her a new one, and I really can't afford that right now. Not if I'm going out to dinner Friday night with Padme.

"Ah-hah!" She makes this little cry of triumph, and my stomach sinks. "I think I've found her! Is her last name 'Naberrie'?"

 _How_ did she find her so quickly?! I give a feeble nod of my head just as my first load of laundry beeps, and I turn around and pull my wet clothes out and walk over and stuff them into a nearby dryer. As much as I try to concentrate on my washing, it's difficult when Ahsoka keeps making all these hums of approval, or little gasps of surprise, and I just _know_ she's doing it on purpose until I can't stand it anymore and I go and join her. After a few minutes of being stuck in the dark, where I am busy putting my second load of clothes in the dryer, I set the timer and close the door, turning the dryer on and step up beside Ahsoka, peering over her shoulder.

The first thing that strikes me is her profile picture. She's with a little girl, whom I'm guessing is one of her nieces, and their faces are flushed from the cold. Snow swirls all around them. A cream beanie sits on her head, and her beautiful, chestnut curls spill down her shoulders, cascading over a pastel blue, cream, and gray coloured scarf wrapped round her throat. Her eyes are bright and sparkling, and there's this dazzling smile on her face as she beams up at the camera, her arms wrapped round her niece. She is _so_ beautiful, even with a red nose, that I'm helpless to stop myself as I stare at her for a while, and I know that dopey smile is back on my face.

" _Padme Naberrie,_ " Ahsoka announces, like she is reading out possible candidates for a job interview. "Born May 14th. 22 years old...Hey, you two are the same age, Skyguy!...Junior at Columbia, International Relations major. Volunteer at Community Impact and Columbia Outreach. Lives in the Upper West Side, Manhattan, NYC, New York."

"Yes, I can _read_ , Snips," I grumble, nudging her hip to make room for me. She shuffles over a bit, and I jump up beside her. I mean, I'm this far in. I might as well keep going, right? Besides, it's not as if she's going to know.

"She really _is_ a saint," Ahsoka remarks airily with a click of her tongue. "You're dating Mother Theresa here, Skyguy. She even _volunteers_ , man!" Ashoka let's out a low whistle, nodding her head like _she's_ impressed.

All I can do is nod my own head in response. Community Impact is a youth program run through Columbia. I've heard of it, obviously. They're always advertising for more student volunteers around campus. Sometimes, they even come into lectures and interrupt my professors, which I secretly enjoy, because they give out free candy, and it means I miss out on ten minutes of _old-man-droning_. It's a bit of a laugh, though. No one I know _actually_ volunteers there. Well...Except, it seems... _her._

Suddenly, I want to volunteer, too. It's basically tutoring for middle school and high school kids. How hard could it be? I'm pretty smart – though I like to keep that information strictly to myself – but there's no denying I'm on the Dean's List, so tutoring a teenager would be a piece of cake! And…There's the delicious possibility that I will see Padme more; so, _of_ _course_ , that would make the entire experience worthwhile. I'm struck by the thought of telling her, on our date, that I also work there – bring it up in casual conversation in such a way that she doesn't assume I've snooped on her – and watch her face light up in surprise and _pride._ Her face would break out into that gorgeous smile of hers, and she might even reach over to grip my hand, and tell me how _wonderful_ that is, and the possibility of impressing her like that is enough for me to decide that tomorrow, when I go back to class, I'm going to sign up for this program.

As usual, Ahsoka is oblivious to the inner workings of my mind, and immediately clicks on the _Photos of Padme_ section of her _Timeline._ "Okay, let's get to the juicy stuff."

Much to my amusement, and Ahsoka's dismay, there's a severe lack of what she would deem _juicy_ photos. It's actually rather boring. Basically, there's just a lot of photos of her cat, named Naboo, which is white and fluffy with blue eyes and is very _Padme_ -esque, and her two nieces, named Ryoo and Pooja, who I have to admit _are_ pretty adorable – little blondies with these wide blue eyes that remind me of Ashoka when she was that age. Something that _really_ sparks my interest, however, are all these wonderful photos of _food._ I instantly tell Ahsoka to click on one, and read the little caption that accompanies it.

A girl called Dorme writes: " _Coming home from work today to THIS masterpiece! I definitely have the_ _ **best**_ _roommate ever! Thanks, Padme!"_ My mouth basically starts watering at the sight of it. I _**love**_ food, _especially_ food that is hearty and full of flavour. Which is exactly what I'm looking at on Ahsoka's laptop right now. It's some sort of rice dish, with shrimp and chorizo and vegetables and a whole heap of spices that give the rice this bright yellow tinge. Everything about it just screams Mediterranean, which is one of my _favourite_ cuisines. And, the fact that _Padme_ made this does something to me that I can't explain. It turns me the fuck _on_ , and I feel my my cock twitch again, making me shift just a bit where I'm sitting, hoping Ahsoka doesn't notice.

We scroll through several more posts from this Dorme girl, and each subsequent picture with its accompanying description makes my mouth water more and more. They _ALL_ look and sound delicious!

She can fucking cook! Wow. _Nothing_ is more appealing to me than a woman who can cook...and from the looks of it, cook pretty damn well! I mean...she's intelligent, witty, elegant, a bit bashful but _so_ beautiful, caring, selfless, and she has the strength of character to stick to her guns...and now, I find out she can _cook,_ too?Literally, I think I've found the absolute _perfect_ girl for me, and as that realization suddenly dawns on me, I feel the _butterflies_ back in my stomach again and my hands begin to tremble. And, suddenly, I'm even _more_ excited now about Friday night, if that's possible. There's _nothing_ about her that doesn't attract me – even the fact that she has a cat, which is funny because I fucking _hate_ cats. All the cats I've ever met are complete assholes. But, it's just so _fitting_ for her to have a cat, this little fluffy white thing – it just emphasises her _purity_ to me.

I snatch the laptop from Ahsoka's hands, ignoring her knowing smirk, and continue flicking through her photos. Dorme, who I've deduced is Padme's roommate, constantly posts pictures of Padme's meals, and I observe them with guilty pleasure...and _longing._ Ipause and kinda zone out for a moment, asI am possessed with the sudden thought of coming home from work everyday to Padme and having a wonderful meal ready that she's prepared just for _me,_ for _us._ But _,_ I'm jolted out of my daydream when Ahsoka elbows me in the ribs. "Come on! Scroll down, will you?"

We scroll down through a few more pictures from Dorme, and discover that...she can _bake,_ too! Awesome! Everything from heavy Christmas puddings to breads and other pastries to cookies, cakes, and pies...even delicate macaroons. Honestly, I am more impressed with her by the minute! Seriously, is there _anything_ this girl cannot do?

Just when I think she's perfect enough, I come across a video posted by her sister, Sola. I open it, intrigued, and a huge grin breaks out on my face as it starts to play. It's Padme, when she was about eight years old or so, sitting at this enormous grand piano, playing _Fur Elise_ duringwhatlookslike a recital _._ The quality is pretty shoddy, but I can distinctly make out the cute determined scowl on her face as she delicately moves her fingers over the keys. I just _knew_ she played the piano.

It's official. Padme Naberrie is absolute perfection, a goddess sent down from the heavens to tempt poor mortal men like me, and I am the luckiest bastard in the whole fucking world to say that she's agreed to see me again. _Me?_ A lazy, sarcastic, arrogant jerk who is so far beneath her that it's ridiculous, and yet, for some ungodly reason, she wants to see _me_! Man, am I psyched!

Ahsoka snorts a laugh through her nose, almost falling off the washing machine from the force of it, and I whip my head around to face her, frowning. "You're fucking screwed, Skyguy!" She says through fits of laughter.

I can't even be mad at her, because she's right. I _am_ screwed.

My washing finishes, and I reluctantly hand Ahsoka back her laptop, and, take my warm clothes out of the dryer. I should probably fold them, but I really can't be bothered. I grab my laundry basket and the detergent, and as I make my way to go back upstairs, now with all my clothes clean and dry, I look back to see Ahsoka still sitting on the washing machine, head bent over her laptop in concentration. Her lip is between her teeth, eyebrows furrowed, and the expression on her face is mixed between bemusement and mischief.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she mutters and bites her lower lip hard, before looking up at me. Her eyes are swimming with amusement. There's something she's not telling me, I just know it, and I swallow in trepidation. " _THIS_ is who you're gonna have to live up to, Skyguy." She clicks her tongue at me with a smirk on her face.

She flips her laptop around so the screen is facing me, and I set my laundry down and dart over, curious as to what she's going on about. The image on the screen makes me scowl immediately. It's Padme, all rugged up cute for winter out on Lasker ice-rink at Central Park, and even though she looks fucking gorgeous, I can't tear my eyes away from the _very_ _masculine_ arm wrapped firmly, _intimately_ around her waist. The arm that is connected to a man. A tall man, with dark hair, green eyes, rugged good looks, and a teasing half-smile on his face as he looks down at Padme with a... _besotted_. _.._ look. And _she's_ holding onto him, too! And, there's this look in _her_ eyes, so bright and happy and content that can _only_ be a look of love, and I squirm. My scowl deepens, which only makes Ashoka grin even wider.

Out of nowhere, I suddenly feel _jealous! Me? Jealous?..._ Over a woman? I've never felt like this before either, but I can't deny it's how I feel. My blood boils hot and thick in my veins. My heart pounds. My fists clench. I grit my teeth together and lock my jaw, as I feel myself growing angrier and angrier. I can't tear my eyes away from that fucking arm around her waist. _An_ _arm_ _that_ _should_ _belong_ _to_ _no one_ _else_ _but_ _**me**_ _._ Not some other guy! Other guys shouldn't be hugging her!

"Well, you've _got_ to admit, Skyguy. He's pretty dang hot." Ahsoka gives me a coy look and shrugs her shoulders.

I snarl and snap my head up to meet Ahsoka's teasing smile, my eyes narrowed. I swear I could almost kill her right now. " _Where_ did you find _this_?" I hiss the demand through gritted teeth.

She giggles, a very uncharacteristic giggle, and I just _know_ she's playing some sort of game with me, but I'm not in the fucking mood for her shit at the moment. "Oh, I was just stalking her friends list, y'know, as you would do. And, I found _this_ guy. His name is Rush Clovis, and from what I can tell, he's Padme's ex-boyfriend. And, seeing as he still has _this_ photo of them on his _Facebook_ , I'd say he's still fairly smitten with her." She smiles that slow coy smile again that I suddenly detest and arches her eyebrows at me as if to say, _Looks like you've got some competition there, Skyguy!_

I exhale sharply through my nose, and a low animalistic growl rumbles out of my chest. This must be the guy from the other night; the _old acquaintance_ that Padme had referred to. I remember the expression on her face when she talked about him, that awkward bashful smile and how her cheeks had flushed, and I wonder just how _bad_ their history had really been. How long had they been together? Had it been really serious? Why had she broken up with him? Because, no guy in their right mind would ever break up with Padme. I sure as hell wouldn't, and I've only known her a few hours! For a moment, I feel a pang of sympathy for the poor guy for doing something stupid to make her leave him, but it's only fleeting and soon replaced by a fierce surge of primal satisfaction. Tough luck, dude. She's seeing _me_ now. This guy, this _Rush Clovis_ , lucked out because Padme is with _me,_ and I'm going to make damn sure she never, _ever_ wants to leave _my_ side. No way. Not gonna happen.

I'm going to make her _**mine**_ if it's the last fucking thing I ever do. My mind is made up. It's a done deal.

Ahsoka still wears that annoying smirk as I pick up my laundry basket with a huff and head back upstairs, but I refuse to acknowledge her taunts. Whilst my exterior is my usual confident, cocky, and arrogant self, inside I'm as insecure as a teenage girl with a huge zit on her forehead. It's only later, when I'm alone in my room with my door shut, that I decide to check out my competition, grabbing my own laptop and lying on my bed, my back against the headboard. And, Ahsoka was right. He is _some_ fucking competition. A newly graduated associate at some big law firm in the city. With his _own_ apartment, from what I can gather from my stalking. Young, though older than me at twenty-five. Rich. Smart. Handsome. Well, _fuck._

But, I'm nothing if not determined. Padme had called me _persistent_. And she's damn right.

 _Nothing_ is going to scare me off _this_ chase. My predatory instincts have been kicked into high gear now. Not even the enormous shoes of an intimidating _ex_ -boyfriend. No, my mind is made up. I'm going to show up on Friday and impress the _hell_ out of her, and she'll have _no_ _choice_ but to agree to a third date. Which will lead to a fourth. Then a fifth. Then _total_ exclusivity...

 _Wait...WHAT_?! _Exclusivity_?! Did I just think that? _Me_? Do I really _want_ that?! An exclusive... _monogamous_...relationship with Padme?!

I pause and _**really**_ consider what I'm...well, _considering_...Monogamy...Me?...Hmmm...

Do I, Anakin Skywalker, really, truly, for sure... _want..._ a monogamous, exclusive relationship? With Padme?

The surprising answer is… **Yes**! I _do_. I _**really**_ fucking do. As stunned at this realization as I am, I can't help but melt inside with happiness at the thought, too. I grin ferally.

Ahsoka is right. _Who_ am I, and _what_ have I done with the real Anakin Skywalker?!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** So, I'm back. The mojo is definitely back. Well, mostly. I'm still swamped with assessment, but I wanted to get this out of the way so that I can focus on TGFH... *cough cough* I should actually be focusing on my Honours Research Project, but... I'm a procrastinator by nature... What can I say? ;) Thank you for being so patient with me. LOVE!

* * *

It's exactly 7:21 pm, and I'm waiting outside the front of Max's. Fuck _yes_! I'm early. So early, in fact, that Padme isn't even here yet, and I give an internal fist pump at the achievement. It's a step up. She's bound to notice, bound to be pleased that I redeemed myself. She might even tease me, and the thought of her witty banter and that gorgeous little smirk of hers makes me grin like an idiot.

Passers-by give me strange looks as I stand outside in the early evening breeze, and I realize I must look ridiculous; standing by myself, dressed up fairly nicely – Ahsoka insisted on picking out my outfit; black jeans, light grey button up dress shirt, which I actually took the time to iron, black leather oxfords on my feet, and a black, wool jacket – looking ready for a date, yet said date is not present. It doesn't really bother me, not _that_ much, until time wears on, and I begin to get paranoid. What if she isn't turning up? What if she's changed her mind? It's not like I can actually contact her – I _still_ don't have her fucking number, so if she decided to stand me up, I'd have no way of seeing her again. Of course, the way she had reacted when I'd proposed dinner had been promising, but it's been three days, and a lot can happen in three days. What if she's gotten a better offer? What if it's an offer from _him_...that _Rush_ _Clovis_?

The thought plagues me as I stand there, waiting for her, and I scowl for a moment and hastily run a hand through my hair as I pull out my phone, deciding to resort to the age-old habit of pretending to be texting someone when you're alone. It's a technique I picked up at Columbia during my freshman year, when I had to wait around outside my classes by myself, and I didn't really know anyone yet. It's also a good way to avoid being approached by unwanted strangers.

As soon as I unlock my phone screen, I see a heap of texts from Ahsoka, basically all saying the same thing: **How** **is** **it** **going?!** Each one is accompanied by such a bizarre assortment of emojis, from smileys, to thumbs-up, to random cats, and it makes me laugh. She might be a pain in the ass, but she's still pretty adorable. I scroll through her messages for a while to keep myself occupied, chuckling at her enthusiasm. It's a struggle to keep my eyes from darting up to the top of my phone to see the time (it's been 4 minutes), and I want to kick myself for being _nervous_. Surely, I'm just being paranoid over nothing. She'll turn up. She _has_ to.

It's as I contemplate messaging Ben to soothe my anxiety, that I hear the familiar sound of a cab pulling up to the curb, and then a softly sweet, feminine voice thanking the driver. Looking up quickly, I feel my mouth go dry as I see _her_ stepping out of the cab. It's unnerving really, how just the mere _sight_ of her renders me completely unable to function or think clearly. I haven't seen her in three days, and once again, I feel the now familiar _flip_ - _flop_ sensation in my stomach and the fine tremors in my hands as I simply stare at her, awestruck by her mere presence. Her gaze lifts up and rests on me, and her face breaks out into this glorious smile as she approaches me. And _fuck_ is she ever _beautiful_! Her petite figure is concealed modestly in a high-necked burgundy dress that accentuates her tiny waist and supple curves and flares out slightly to her knees. She's wearing a delicate gold chain bracelet on her left wrist, and a cream sweater dotted with tiny seed pearls is draped over her slender shoulders. She carries a small gold clutch purse in one hand, and her small, black pointy-toed heels give her an extra inch or so over her adorable five-foot-four inch frame.

But, even though she looks exquisite, it is not her clothing that attracts my attention. No, it's her _hair_. Her luxurious, chestnut curls that fall in loose, elegant ringlets over her shoulder, held to one side by a gold, jewelled butterfly clip that reveal a glimpse of her dainty, diamond earrings. It looks so silky soft, so glorious, so _richly_ _feminine_ that I am compelled by a desire to reach out and run my fingers gently through it, to brush it from her neck and dust her ivory skin with my lips, to curl my hands up in those magnificent tresses as I press my body against hers…

I am brought out of my thoughts by the sweetly intoxicating floral scent of her perfume, and I realize she is standing right in front of me, grinning up at me with a teasing glint in her dark chocolate eyes.

"Nice to see you made it on time," she teases, a small smile playing about her luscious lips.

I smirk. "I couldn't be late twice, now, could I? Wouldn't want to give you a bad impression."

Padme laughs and tosses her hair just a little, sending those beautiful ringlets dancing around her shoulders. "I'm afraid you've already done that, Anakin." Her melodic laughter makes my insides quiver, and desire for her pulses through my veins, and I feel my breath catch in my chest.

Stepping closer to her, I drop my voice to a low, husky timbre and touch her wrist gently. "I think I could change your mind."

Before she has a chance to retort, I take her hand in mine, and together, we walk inside. A waiter approaches us as we step inside Max's, asking if we made a reservation, and I give him my name. He takes us around the side, to one of the tables outside lit only by candlelight, huddled against the wall. There's several other couples at the surrounding tables – even for a Friday night, it's _packed_. I'm glad I took Ben's advice and made a reservation. Suddenly, I panic and spare a glance beside me at Padme. Is it too small? Too cramped? Too _simplistic_? I mean, I'm a college student. It's not like I can afford to take her anywhere expensive, but I'm suddenly crippled with the thought that this is too _homely_ for her.

My insecurities vanish when I notice her expression. It's completely enraptured, and she's got this brilliant smile on her face, and her eyes are wide and sparkling in the dim light. She turns to me, flashes me that gorgeous smile I long to see, and I feel my breath hitch in my chest. "Well, this is really _cute_...very sweet," she gives a small nod of approval, and I sigh in fucking relief, unable to keep the little smile off my own face. She does this to me, and I almost can't help it, can't control the way my body reacts around her.

"Glad you like it," I return her smile, pull out her chair for her and place my hand boldly on the small of her back as she sits down. She beams up at me in thanks, and I give an internal cheer of victory for doing the _gentlemanly_ thing by holding her chair for her. _So_ _far_ , _so_ _good_. I then take my own seat opposite her and run a hand through my hair. A silence exists between us, but I don't know what to say, how to break it. It's a goddamn miracle that she agreed to this date in the first place, that she's here with me, and I know that I need to do something so I don't ruin it, but I just _can_ ' _t_. It's fucking ridiculous. I'm _never_ short of words. But, my mouth can't seem to work properly, my voice is stuck in my throat, and I know that if I speak, I'll say something stupid, like, "You're an angel." As if that isn't the corniest line in the world.

So, I simply study her. There's a little freckle on her cheekbone, right in the center, a small, round beauty mark, and I wonder how I've never noticed it before. It's the only flaw-if you could even call it that-on her beautiful ivory skin, and yet, it makes her even _more_ perfect to me. I've never really paid much attention to those kind of little details on a woman before, but I'm intrigued. Is this the only freckle she has? Or, are there others...in more _intimate_ places...just hidden away, under her clothes. I _really_ want to find out.

Padme is staring at me curiously, and brushes some of her hair back, a little insecure gesture I've noticed she resorts to when she's unsure. It's fucking adorable. "What?" she asks shyly, blinking at me from underneath her long, beautiful eyelashes.

I chuckle and shake my head. She has _no_ _idea_. "Nothing...it's just...you look gorgeous." I feel a dopey smile spread across my face as I admire her in the glow of the candlelight, and my insides quiver again with a rush of desire.

Her cheeks flush a dark pink, and she smiles, placing her hands demurely in her lap. "Thank you, Anakin."

The waiter returns with menus and a wine list and asks if we would like any drinks. I peruse the list absently, not really paying much attention, because I don't drink wine. There's just something bitter about it that sets off my gag reflex. It's almost worse than that fucking awful cough-syrup Mom used to give me as a kid. Besides, I don't really want to drink tonight anyway. Something tells me that tonight is the single _most_ important night of my life, and I _need_ to be sober.

"I'll just have a Coke," I tell the waiter and then raise my eyebrows at Padme.

She smiles and hands the menu back. "A glass of Pinot Grigio please," she says, all ladylike and polite, which I suddenly find to be...endearing.

With a nod, the waiter disappears back inside, and we are left alone again. Another silence. God, _why_ can't I speak to her? We were fine the other day, at Starbucks, but all of a sudden, my throat has gone dry, and the thought of speaking, of saying something completely stupid and ruining my chances with her makes me nauseous. And, _she_ doesn't help. She just sits there, hands in her lap, blinking at me in expectation, just waiting. What the _fuck_ does she want from me?! I think back to Ahsoka, how she pestered me for information about Padme, and wonder if I should take that approach? That sort of twenty-questions thing they do with online dating. Is that what she wants, expects?

 _Fuck_ _me_. I'm _so_ out of my depth here, it's embarrassing. A wry voice in the back of my head reminds me that _this_ is why I don't date. On the outside, I'm as cool as you can get, confident and arrogant and charming, but here, now, I'm anxious and insecure and _nervous_. I'm not cut out for this. It doesn't help that Padme is the most perfect girl in the entire fucking universe. Like, if she was just ordinary, just _average_ , my palms probably wouldn't be as sweaty, and I sure as hell wouldn't be freaking out like this. Actually, I remind myself, if she _was_ just average, I wouldn't even _be_ here on a _date_ of all things!

 _Get_ _a_ _grip_ , _Skywalker_.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grow a pair and dive right into the deep end. "So, how was your day?" That's a good start, right? I mean, no harm can come from inquiring after her day.

She smiles and brings her hands back up from her lap, placing her elbows on the table. "Oh, it was wonderful! I had tutoring this afternoon, and Hannah, one of my students, got an A on her English paper!" Her eyes are bright and alive and so full of pride that my heart swells in my chest. How is it that one person can be so full of light and happiness? It pours out of her, and her aura buzzes with it. Not for the first time, I wonder if she is, truly, an angel.

"You tutor?" I ask curiously, even though I already know this. But, I would like to keep my _Facebook_ stalking to myself – what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

Padme nods her head eagerly. "I volunteer for the Community Outreach program. You know, the one that's run through Columbia."

I give her a sly smirk. "Yeah, I know the one. I just signed up to it, actually." When I was on campus yesterday, in fact, but I keep that to myself.

At my remark, her beautiful eyes widen, and she reaches across the table and touches my hand. Her elegant fingers brush over my rough, tanned skin in the softest caress and sends fire licking straight up my arm. "That's wonderful, Anakin!" she praises, just as I thought she would, and I desperately try to keep the grin of victory off my face, but I feel a swell of pride in my chest anyway. "It's _so_ rewarding, honestly. What made you decide to sign up?"

Well… fuck… I wasn't expecting _that_ question. _You_ , I think instantly, but instead, I give a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders, as though it's no big deal. "Well, they're always advertising for new volunteers, and I'm on the Dean's List so I thought I'd be alright at it. You know, giving back to the community and all that."

She nods her head along with my words, as though she understands where I'm coming from, and my stomach sinks. I'm a disgusting human being, and she can't even see through my deceit. I don't deserve her. I really, _really_ don't. Only, I _want_ to impress her, to have her think well of me. Is that so bad?

"That's so good of you," Padme gushes, and it only makes me feel worse. "We're always looking for more volunteers. I think you'd be great at it."

 _That_ piques my interest. How did she come to that conclusion? I lift an eyebrow with a smirk. "Oh? Why do you say that?"

Shrugging her shoulders slightly, she fixes me with a curious stare. "You just have that… _thing_ , you know? There's just... _something_ about you. I think you'd be really great with kids. They'd look up to you."

I can't help but snort at that. Clearly, she doesn't know me very well. I'm definitely _not_ a role model – not after the things I used to do at school. Honestly, it's a good thing I'm smart, because if I wasn't, there probably wouldn't have been a future for me after school. Of course, I'm not going to tell Padme _that_ particular piece of information about my past. I would like her to see me as a genuinely good, smart, likeable guy...not a rascal with a habit of getting into trouble.

"I don't know where you got that idea from," I tease her. "I'd probably just encourage my bad study habits." A soft laugh slips past her lips, and I watch in awe as her nose crinkles. _Score!_ I made her laugh. Well, that's something. And fuck, she's just _so_ cute when she laughs. It makes me want to pull her into my arms and nuzzle into her hair and smother her with affection – something I didn't even know I was actually capable of giving. I mean, the _only_ person I'm affectionate with is my mom, and well Ahsoka, when she was younger and less of a little shit. "I bet you're a natural, though."

Padme beams at the compliment, but brushes it aside, all humble and sweet. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. Some days it can be… _difficult_ ," her face screws up a little, as though she wants to say something _more_ , possibly something _rude_ , but is too polite to say so. "I tutor a fourteen-year-old boy, and he definitely tests my patience sometimes."

"I find that hard to believe," I tell her honestly. "If you had been tutoring _me_ when I was fourteen, I would have been hanging on your every word."

The way she blushes sparks my desire. "I wouldn't have needed to tutor _you_ ," she quips, recovering quickly, and her eyes flash. "The Dean's list? Wow. That's _quite_ an achievement."

I grin smugly. "Is it really that surprising?"

"No, of course not," she covers quickly, blushing again, which is so cute. "It's…impressive. _Very_ impressive, actually."

I wink at her and grin. "I'm not just a pretty face, Padme."

She rolls her eyes at me, yet, from the way her dark eyes appraise me, raking over my form, I know she agrees. At least, that I'm a pretty face. "We'll see."

Our witty banter is interrupted by the waiter, who returns with our drinks and asks us if we are ready to order. Padme giggles in embarrassment and hurriedly opens up the menu. It's strange, we haven't even thought about ordering yet, we've been too busy talking. I'm _really_ into her, I realize, if I care more about conversing than _eating_ , which is my top priority in life, other than sleeping and, well, sex. She's just _so_ fascinating, _so_ interesting, and she _tests_ me, which I like. _A lot._ Most girls I've met, not that I've actually _dated_ before, are just dull, unoriginal _Barbie_ _dolls_ , who think that laughing at every fucking thing I say and pressing their tits up in my face is going to win me over. I mean, sure, it does in the moment, but it's _so_ refreshing actually talking to a woman with a _brain_. It's so damn sexy.

Padme apologises, and the waiter leaves us to make up our minds. I laugh as she scans the menu frantically, eyes darting rapidly across the page. "Don't you come here often?" I muse. "You shouldn't even need to look at the menu."

She peers at me over the menu, a twinkle in her eyes and a seductive smirk playing on her lips. "I'm feeling _wild_ tonight, Anakin. I want to try something different."

I can't help the erotic thoughts that immediately run through my head at the word _wild_. All I can picture is the two of us having wild sex - they say it's the good girls who are secretly little minxes, and the thought of Padme being _wild_ makes my dick twitch in my pants. A thousand crude responses instantly come to mind, but neither of us have had enough alcohol for _that_ kind of talk, and I don't want to insult her, so I refrain and simply smile wryly at her. "That's a bold move. Sure you can handle it?" I arch my eyebrows and tilt my head ever so slightly toward her, a smirk on my face.

This time, _she_ winks, and I feel my pulse start to gallop madly at that, and it only confirms my suspicions of her secretly being a deviant. That idea delights me to no end. "What's life without a little risk?" she remarks, coquettishly, lifting her right shoulder in a half shrug, before glancing again at the menu. _Fuck_ , this woman is going to _kill_ me, I swear it. And, I haven't even gotten her into bed yet! " _You_ ' _re_ _screwed_ , _Skyguy_ ," - Yes, Snips, I really fucking am.

"What are you having?" she asks, closing the menu in front of her, eyeing me suspiciously, as I haven't even looked once at the menu. I don't need to. I already know what I want - and when I find something I like, I stick to it. I'm a simple guy.

"My usual," I respond with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Which is...?" she quirks an eyebrow with a teasing half smile, amusement dancing in her eyes as she poses her next question before I can respond. "Let me guess...more of your _simple_ _needs_ , right?"

Her comment makes me grin. She's good, _really_ good, and I find this acerbic banter between us so _...alluring_. "Don't knock it 'til you try it," I tease her. "Simple is easy."

She rests her cheek on her hand as she contemplates me, one finger dipping slightly into the corner of her mouth, and she smirks around it. "I don't know. It's a little _boring_ , don't you think?" She lifts an eyebrow at me, making me grin even wider, and I chuckle, amazed at just how _turned_ _on_ I get from her cheeky responses.

"I prefer to think of it as _consistent_."

Padme doesn't respond, just smiles, and simply takes a sip of her wine. The waiter returns once more, pen and paper ready, and I immediately give him my usual order; _Fettucine_ _al_ _sugo_ _Toscana_ , and she orders the _Gnocchi_ _alla_ _Sorrentina_.

" _Gnocchi_?" I raise my eyebrows, slightly intrigued by her choice. Being the simplistic guy I am, I've never had it before.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," she mocks me imphishly, eyes twinkling as she does so, repeating my earlier sentiment, and it makes me chuckle. "It's _delicious_ ," she insists but then sighs. "I tried to make it at home once, but it didn't quite work out." A cute little pout forms on her lush lips, and it makes me smile fondly at her. Her pout is accompanied by this little huff of disappointment, and I realise that she's frustrated that there's _something_ she can't cook. If Ahsoka was here, she'd probably clap her hands together and laugh maniacally at finding a _flaw_ in Padme, that there's actually _something_ that she can't do, something to make her slightly less perfect. It's almost reassuring.

I reach over the table and gently take her hand in mine, pausing for a few moments to gauge her reaction, even as I feel fire racing up my arm again at the touch of her skin against mine. When all she does is blink up at me, I decide that she must like the contact, and I give her the most genuine smile I can muster. "I'm _sure_ it just takes practice," I assure her as I gently squeeze her band, even though I have _no_ fucking clue about cooking, let alone making complex pasta.

She returns my smile and keeps her hand in mine, which I take as a good sign, and smirks. "Do you cook?"

A snort bursts out through my nose so hard it almost hurts. "Cook? _Me_? _Pfft..._ Who has time for cooking?!" I shake my head. It's the main excuse I use to get out of _most_ of my adult responsibilities - be it cooking, cleaning, or doing my laundry. When really, the sad truth is that I just can't be bothered. I'm just _too_ lazy. It's really one of my worst faults...but no need to let _her_ know that. Ahsoka cooks sometimes, but most days we just order takeout. We know all of the good places around the neighbourhood - where to get the best Chinese, Indian, Greek, Italian, Japanese, Mexican, Subs, Burgers, and Pizza. _Why_ cook when we are surrounded by a hub of delicious, cheap food of all types? Honestly, it makes no sense.

The way she's looking at me, with wide, incredulous eyes and parted lips, makes me realize that the concept of _not cooking_ is completely foreign to her. "How do you _live?_ " she blurts out, seemingly unable to help herself, and her outburst makes me chuckle.

"There's this wonderful invention called _takeout_ ," I tell her, sardonically, and I can't wipe the amused expression from my face at the look of shock on hers.

"So, you never cook. _Ever?!_ "

I really wish she'd stop looking at me like I've just told her I never shower or something. It makes me feel like an inadequate person. "Nope," I shrug my shoulders lazily. "I've never really had any inclination to cook. I mean, Ahsoka sometimes cooks, but it's not common." She frowns in confusion, and it's so adorable it makes me laugh. "I suppose that means you don't approve?"

A small smile graces her lips, and she shakes her head slowly. "No...I guess I just don't understand that. I _love_ to cook. It's one of my favourite things to do." Her smile widens, and she tilts her head just a touch to the right and scrunches her face up, like she's really considering her next comment. "It's just so… _relaxing_ forme _._ Y'know?" A soft sigh escapes her, and her eyes are wide and slightly glazed over – that same contented look that my mom gets when she's knitting. It's so fucking adorable. "Of course, it was only once I moved out of my parent's place that I really learned how to cook, but I just _love it._ It's so nice to be able to make a nice meal for yourself, and try new things, y'know?"

"Will _I_ ever get the privilege of experiencing one of your marvelous home-cooked meals?" I tease with a smirk, though, deep down, I actually really _, really_ want to. And, not just because I love food. But, also because I really, _truly_ want another date with her. "I'm very skilled in the art of eating." I raise my eyebrows and flash her a grin.

My comment makes her laugh, a beautiful, tinkling silvery laughter that sends the most pleasurable shudder down my spine. Her lips curl into a smirk, and her dark eyes flash, challenging me. "Maybe one day," she counters, coyly. " _If_ you play your cards right." Her eyes twinkle with mischief at her challenge just issued, and she smirks and gently shakes her head in amusement, and I grin widely, as she has _no clue_ what she's just done.

Right there and then, I make a silent vow to myself to accept this challenge, averring that I _will_ play every goddamn card there is, so I can win her over. And I _will win,_ there's no doubt in my mind. It's as good as done. She just doesn't know that yet.

 _But_ _she_ _will_.

Just then the waiter arrives with our food, and I eye my meal eagerly, suddenly overwhelmed by a ravenous hunger I didn't know I possessed until I smell the mouth-watering aroma of basil and garlic and tomato. Padme graciously thanks the waiter and then elegantly places her napkin across her lap. I wait for Padme to start eating, before I make my move, trying desperately to be polite, but it's a struggle because I'm so fucking hungry. Her manners are impeccable, like she is royalty or something – the dainty way she holds her fork – and I watch her, transfixed for a moment, as she pops each morsel of gnocchi into her mouth. Never have I thought that I'd get _aroused_ by watching a woman eat, but I can't deny what the sight of her lips wrapping around her fork does to me. _Everything_ she does sets my nerves on fire like nothing I've ever experienced before. If I don't have her in my bed soon, I just _know_ I'll explode.

After a few minutes of silence while we eat, I decide to make conversation, in an attempt to distract myself from watching her lush, red lips. "So, how was your dinner with your sister?" I ask as I swallow a bite and take a sip of my Coke.

Padme smiles and places her fork elegantly back down on her plate. "It was wonderful," she concedes. "Sola was ecsatic, as you could imagine. And, it was lovely to see my nieces again."

"Do you see your family often?" To me, she seems like the family sort, which, as it happens, is very much like myself. The only people I really, _truly_ , care about are my family – my mother, and by extension, Ahsoka and Ben. I'd do anything for them, and I can tell that Padme feels the same about her family. Something else we have in common, which sends a little thrill through me, and I smile to myself, because it's another indicator of just how _perfect_ she really is for me.

A sad frown suddenly pulls at her lips and her straight eyebrows furrow just a little. "Not as often as I would like," she admits softly. "It's difficult with classes and volunteering. But, we try to have fortnightly dinners." She takes another sip of her wine, her lipstick leaving a faint imprint on the glass, before she blinks at me. "Do you live with your parents?"

I shake my head. "No, my mother lives in Brooklyn. I rent an apartment just around the corner from here with Ahsoka."

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip in that seductively innocent way of hers that I love so much, and she tilts her head ever so slightly to the right side. "Ahsoka…you mentioned her earlier. Is she that girl who was with you the other night at the club?"

"Yeah. The one who kept forcing me to do shots," I chuckle at the memory and shake my head before taking another sip of Coke.

Padme only frowns. "You two seem really... _close_. Are you...is she...?" her voice trails off shyly, and she glances down at her plate, and I realize with sudden clarity _exactly_ what it is she's asking, and the question leaves me brimming with confidence, and I smirk inwardly. _YES!_ She's actually _jealous_ , maybe just a little, at the thought of Ahsoka and I being involved, and it makes me grin smugly, secretly excited that she may feel that way, and I can't help giving an internal cheer at the idea. She must like me more than she leads on.

"God, _**no**_ _,_ " I answer immediately, screwing up my face in disgust. "Ahsoka's like my little sister. I've literally known her since she was a baby – our mothers are best friends. We grew up together. To even think about it... _NO._ " I give a little shudder and scrunch up my face, to reiterate my words.

Her demeanour visibly relaxes considerably after that, even though she tries to hide it, and she shoots me another smile. "Does she go to Columbia, too?"

"No," I shake my head, "She's only just graduated high school, and she works at a coffee house not far from here. She's living with me for a bit while she decides what she wants to do."

Padme reaches out and touches my hand with her fingertips, brushing them gently over my skin, and it makes me flinch just a little at the unexpected contact, but I don't move my hand, because the sensation of _pleasure_ that runs up my arm from her touch leaves me momentarily paralyzed. "That's very kind of you, to let her live with you like that, Anakin."

Her remark makes me snort in spite of myself. "It's not _that_ kind of me. She helps pay the rent." I shoot her a grin, as I take another bite of my food.

Rolling her eyes, she laughs again. "Still, I'm _sure_ she appreciates it. It's nice to share an apartment with a friend. I live with my best friend, Dorme, who I've known for years. It's so much nicer than living with a stranger."

"I dunno," I protest with a scoff. "Sometimes, I think it'd be easier if I lived with a stranger. Ahsoka can be a real pain when she wants to be." Which is, usually, _all_ the fucking time. Honestly, it's like living with my mother again, only a younger, more exuberant, bratty version – constantly nagging me and harassing me about what I'm doing and where I'm going. I know she means well, but it's _so_ annoying.

Padme smiles sympathetically, keeping her hand closed over mine, and I like it...like, _a_ _lot_. Hopefully, she keeps it there for the rest of the night, because I _love_ the way it makes me feel to have hertouch me.

…God, _listen_ to myself, I sound like a fucking pre-teen, getting all gooey about _holding hands._ What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?

"That's sisters for you," she nods her head in understanding. "Even though Sola is older than me, it was _she_ who was always the annoying one...well, at least, to _me_ she was." A secretive little smile curves her lips, like she is remembering a joke that I'm not privy too, and I find that I kind of wish I was, just so that I could see that smirk more often. "How old is Ahsoka?"

I make a face. "Eighteen."

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, suddenly horrified, and I freeze, confused. _What_?...What did I say? "Eighteen? She's only _eighteen?!_ And, you took her to a _nightclub_?!" The accusation is ringing loud and clear, and suddenly, I understand her reaction. Of _course_ she would react this way – she's so pure, the thought of doing something even _slightly_ illegal is foreign to her.

Shrugging my shoulders, I play nonchalant, because to me, it's not a big deal. "She got a fake ID."

Padme's mouth forms an 'O,'and then her hand is quickly withdrawn from mine, and the sudden lack of contact sends a pang of rejection shooting up my arm, straight to my chest, and I miss the contact with her. "That's not very responsible of you, Anakin" she reprimands me with a frown, disappointment clear in her tone.

"Padme, I'm not her _father_ ," I explain casually, hoping she'll understand. "I have _no_ control over Ahsoka. She's an adult. She would have gone with or without me, whether I wanted her to or not, but at least by going along with her, I could make sure that nothing bad happened to her...like some jerk trying to drag her home with him."

She pauses for a moment, and I can practically see her mind whirring as she absorbs my argument. It's entertaining, really, watching that little frown of concentration cross her lovely features as she tries to see my point of view. Then, after a few moments, she nods slowly. "I guess I can see what you mean. That's rather sweet of you, really," she flashes me a soft smile, and my heart soars at the compliment.

I shrug my shoulders. "I s'pose."

My response makes her shake her head at me. "You know, Anakin, it's not a crime to admit that you care about someone." That teasing smirk makes another appearance, and I know she's making fun of me. "What are you afraid of?" Once again, her hand sneaks out to cover my own, but I abruptly pull my hand away. Her expression softens to one vaguely resembling pity, and it only makes me scowl. She goes too far. She's _too_ perceptive. And, suddenly, it scares me.

Because, if I'm being honest, I _am_ afraid. I don't like admitting it, even to myself, but the truth is that love _hurts._ It's a weakness, and it makes you vulnerable. I know, from past experiences, that feeling _too much,_ that getting _too attached_ , only leads to heartbreak. And, that's _not_ something I want to happen again, not if I can help it.

I look away, avoiding the scrutizing gaze of her beautiful brown eyes, and continue eating in silence. She sighs sadly and does the same, and I wonder if I've just blown any chance I've ever had with her. Everything was going so well up until now. _Why_ did she have to bring that up? _How_ can she read me so easily, see right through me as though I'm an open book.

"Anakin," she says my name softly, and it's such a beautifully melancholy sound that I can't help but meet her penetrative stare. The way she's looking at me, so forlorn and concerned makes me want to sweep her into my arms and kiss her. "I'm sorry," she whispers the apology with such compassion that I can't even pretend to stay mad at her. "That was too presumptuous of me. I didn't mean to offend you." She casts her head down to her lap, her luxurious hair falling over her face, obscuring her expression, and I instantly feel bad.

Softening my features into a smile, I reach over and take her hand in mine again, running my thumb gently over her dainty knuckles. She looks up at the contact. "You didn't," I assure her, and, to my delight, she smiles that gorgeous smile again, and it warms me from the inside out. "I'm just not the 'sensitive' type," I flash her a grin and sweet laughter bubbles from her lips.

"I don't think that's true at all," she counters. "I think you really _are_ , you just don't want to show it." She gives my hand a squeeze and leans a little closer. "But, truth be told...I'd _really_ like to get to know _that_ side of you, Anakin." Her honesty takes me completely off guard. _What?!_ Does that mean she _wants_ to see me again? I certainly **hope** it does, because _nothing_ else would make me happier.

I can't help the stupid grin that pulls at my lips at her confession, and I'm surprised I'm not giggling like a fucking school girl, because I _think_ I may just be the happiest guy in the whole universe right now! She _wants_ to get to know **me** , the _real me,_ the me that no one else ever sees. That's _got_ to mean something, right?! She _must_ like me, at least a little, if she wants to get to know me.

"R-really?" I stutter, stupidly, sitting up a little straighter.

She actually _giggles,_ and it's so fucking adorable. Like, seriously, how is one woman so absolutely perfect? "Yes. _Why_ is that so surprising to you?"

I run a hand nervously through my hair, a little lost for words. "Well...I didn't think you liked me that much." I admit with a shrug.

Padme smiles sweetly at me. "I'm here, aren't I?" she quips, raising an eyebrow. "And, I like _this_ side of you. I'd like to see more of him, if you'd like that?"

I'm absolutely stumped. It takes _all_ of my willpower to actually force my mouth to move and make a sound, and yet, I still sound ridiculous as I stare at her with wide eyes. "Y-yeah!" is my initial response, and I immediately regret how enthusiastic I sound, because I don't want her to think I'm _too_ eager. I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck again. "Uh, yeah, I'd – I'd like that." She positively beams at me, and it's the most breathtaking smile I think I've ever seen.

We don't speak for awhile, just enjoying each other's company, as we continue with our meal. As the waiter returns to refill our drinks, she refuses another glass of wine and asks for ice water with a slice of lemon instead, and I notice in that moment she's only halfway through her plate. "Do you like it?" I ask, curious if she's enjoying her meal, for she's hardly touched it, whereas I'm almost finished mine.

Smiling, she nods her head vigorously. "Yes _._ It's delicious!" she gushes, then her eyes light up as though she's had a sudden idea. "Here, give me your spoon."

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I hand the utensil to her. "Why do you want my spoon?"

She blinks, looking at me like I've just asked her the stupidest question ever. "So you can try it, of course." As she scoops up a bite and goes to hand my spoon back to me, I scrunch my face a little, hesitant to take it, because it looks like a lump of raw dough and that can't _possibly_ taste good.

Padme notices and laughs, teasing me. "Come on, Anakin...Just one bite? Surely you can handle such a _bold move."_ She grins, taunting me with with my own words and quirks an eyebrow, clearly amused and practically _daring_ me to try it, and my masculine pride refuses to back down from this. _Challenge accepted!_ I smirk as Itake the spoon and pop the bite of gnocchi in my mouth and begin to chew, and I'm shocked to realise that she's _right._ It really _is_ delicious! She watches me expectantly, eyebrows arched, awaiting my verdict.

I nod my head slowly and concede, "You're right. It's really good." She beams at me in delight, causing me to chuckle. Next time I get takeout, I'm getting the gnocchi for sure.

The rest of the evening passes pleasantly with casual conversation as we finish our meal and then split a pumpkin tart with homemade vanilla ice cream and coffee for dessert, and there's not an ounce of awkwardness in the air. It's so…calming. And easy. I could do this forever with her, I'm sure of it. Time flies by and before I really comprehend it, it's already 10 pm, and the restaurant is preparing to close.

I stand up and help Padme out of her seat, taking her hand in mine, and then I pay the bill, even though she offers to pay her share, which is absolutely ridiculous. We walk, hand in hand, out onto the street, and I can't help but smile at how _nice_ this feels, being with her like this. I could get used to this. Really, I could, and that surprises me more than I'd like to admit.

As we stand by the curb, we are completely silent, and yet Padme doesn't let go of my hand, which I take as a good sign. Eventually, I hail a cab for her – she needs it more than I do; although, I'm perfectly happy with walking. It's then, when she finally releases my grip and we turn to say goodbye to each other, that I sort of freeze. What does she expect from me? I really, _really_ want to kiss her – I've been dreaming about the feel of her lips against mine for almost an entire week now, but I don't want to rush things. Which, in itself, is a strange phenomenon. I've _never_ been one to take things slow before, but with Padme it's… _different._ She deserves more. She deserves the best.

The cab pulls up next to us, and Padme steps closer to me, a breathtaking smile on her face and gives a cute little half-laugh. "Well, this was… _nice,_ " she says, shyly. "Thank you, Anakin. I had a lovely time."

I return her smile with the same enthusiasm. "Yeah, me too."

"We should do it again sometime," she offers and takes another step closer to me, so that our bodies are almost touching. I feel my heart palpitating sporadically in my chest. Is it just me, or is she leaning up towards me?

Swallowing, I nod my head slowly – it's all I'm really capable of doing right now, because she's _so fucking close to me_ and her intoxicating perfume floods my nostrils, and all I can focus on is how her full lips are parted and her tongue is darting out, wetting them in such an innocently provocative way, and _fuck_ I have _never_ wanted to kiss a woman more than I do right now.

"Definitely," I exhale huskily, surprised I can even formulate words, as her face draws near to mine.

Before I can even fully comprehend what's happening, Padme stretches up on her toes, and suddenly, her lips are on mine, just a shy, fleeting brush of her mouth, and I'm pretty sure I let out an aroused moan, because her lips are _so_ fucking soft, like silk, and she tastes _divine_ , and I miss the contact as soon as she pulls back only mere seconds later. I stand rooted to the spot, and my lips feel like they're on fire, as if she's _branded_ me with her kiss.

A rosy blush decorates her porcelain cheeks, and she tucks her hair behind her ear, before slipping something into my palm. I don't really notice what it is, though, because I'm paralysed. I can't fucking move, _or_ think, and even breathing is a bit of an issue right now. She kissed me. _She kissed_ _me!_ And, it was the greatest, most wonderful thing that's _ever_ happened to me. I'm pretty sure I'm hard, which is actually really embarrassing, but I don't even fucking care right now, because _Padme Naberrie kissed me,_ and I'm over the fucking moon! Like, honestly, I should have been the one to kiss _her_. But, the fact that _she_ instigated it, that _she_ made the first move is _such_ a turn on that I'm not even worried about the slight on my manhood.

"I'll see you soon, then," she says, while I stand there like an idiot, and then she's gone, off in her cab, and I'm left there on the sidewalk, staring after her with this stupid fucking grin on my face like I've just won the lottery. It takes a few moments before I come to, and I finally look down to see that...she's given me her _number!_ It's handwritten in very neat, flowy, cursive handwriting ( _who_ writes numbers in fucking cursive?), and I stare at it for a moment, unable to believe my luck. And then, because I'm a dramatic little shit, I let out this loud _whoop_ and punch my fist into the air. _Yeah, Baby!_

I've got her number.

This has _got_ to be the _best_ fucking day of my life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Thank you for being so patient with me. If any of you read some of my other stories, you've probably guessed I have this little rotation going on between all the stories I'm currently juggling (I must have some sort of death wish or something because I constantly give myself too much work to do). I hope you enjoy this chapter. I love exploring Anakin's relationships, not just with Padme, but with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan as well, because they are so integral in his life. And I'm a sucker for Ani/Obi bromance :) Enjoy! xx

* * *

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Just _do_ it already!" Ahsoka groans in frustration, as I sit at the kitchen counter, staring at my phone.

It's been _three_ days. Three days since my date with Padme at Max's. Three days since she gave me her number. Three days since Padme had kissed me. Three days – and I've done _nothing._

Honestly, I can understand Ahsoka's frustration. I'm annoyed at myself, as it is, because _really_ , I **should** have called Padme by now. I really want to see her again – like, really _,_ really _,_ **really** badly, but the thought of calling her has me freaked out to the max.

It's pathetic, and it's irrational, but it's also the truth. It's not the actual _act_ of asking her out again that has me _so_ fucking terrified. No. It's the fact that I _want_ to. The fact that I'm basically head over fucking heels for this girl that I've known all of – what – a week? _What_ the actual fuck? I _literally_ can't stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her eyes, her sweet voice, her tinkling laughter. She's _everywhere_.

I can't concentrate in my classes.

I almost sliced off my fingers at the workshop yesterday because I was daydreaming about _her._

And, the amount of times I've jacked off to thoughts of her just in the last _three days_ is insurmountable – my dick is actually _sore._

This has _never_ happened to me before _._

But, I don't want to look _desperate_. They say three days is the cut off, right? That's the optimum amount of time you're _supposed_ to wait until you call a girl, right? ( _Sex and the City_ taught me this – I don't watch that rubbish, _fuck no_ , but Ahsoka's been binging on it lately, and sometimes, and I mean when I'm procrastinating, I go out into the living room and watch it with her, and that's what Carrie Bradshaw preaches, so I'm going to take it as the gospel). So, as far as I'm aware, I'm _well_ within the time frame of appropriateness.

Ahsoka just thinks I'm weak.

"Fuck off, Snips," I snap at her. "Don't rush me."

She rolls her eyes and then, with a mischievous smirk, reaches across the counter and snatches my phone. "Fine. If you're such a _pussy_ , then **I'll** do it!" She opens my phone – I really should change my passcode; the number of unwanted selfies of Ahsoka is getting _beyond_ ridiculous by this point – and it takes me all of a minute before I realize what's happening.

"Hey!" I roar, leaping off the stool and sprinting around the bench just as Ahsoka dials Padme's number _and_ puts it on speaker. It begins to ring as I make a lunge for her, but she evades me smoothly, racing around the other side of the bench with a mad laugh. I dive across the bench, and tackle her to the ground, pinning her down with my weight, as I try to take back my phone. She's quick though, and holds it up above my reach, all the while grinning at me.

"I'm gonna fucking _kill you_ , Snips, you piece of – "

" – _Hello?_ _"_ a silvery sweet voice echoes through the phone, and we both pause, looking up at my phone, which is held up high above Ahsoka's head. " _Who_ _'_ _s this?_ _"_

I swallow, blink a few times, then rip my phone out of Ahsoka's grip and push myself to my feet and rush to my room, shutting the door. "Uh – Padme. Hi. It's…um… it's Anakin." I stutter pathetically into the phone, taking it off speaker and _hoping_ that she didn't hear my crass language.

 _"_ _Anakin. It_ _'_ _s so nice to finally hear from you. I thought you_ _'_ _d forgotten about me._ _"_ I can practically see that little teasing smirk of hers, can hear it in her beautiful voice, and it makes me laugh.

"Forget about you? _Impossible!_ I could _never_ forget about you, Padme," I venture to flirt. God, if only she _knew_ how often I've thought about her, how _often_ she played out in my every thought, my every action, both sleeping _and_ awake.

She laughs, and it's such a gorgeous, melodic sound, that even through the speaker, I feel my entire body light up. I react to her so easily, it's kind of alarming, because I've _never_ felt this way about _any_ other girl before. **_Ever._**

 _"_ _Well, that_ _'_ _s comforting._ _"_

I suddenly feel incredibly guilty for taking so long to call her. An image floods my mind of her, sitting by her phone with this sad little frown, and it tugs at my conscience, so I decide to remedy the situation. "I'm sorry I haven't called you sooner. I've just been really busy at work and with classes." The lie rolls smoothly off my tongue, and while I feel bad about lying to her, it's better than admitting that I'm just weak. No. This is a much better excuse. More plausible, in any case.

 _"_ _Hmmm... that_ _'_ _s what **all** the boys say,_ _"_ she remarks with a little laugh that goes straight to my sore groin _._ _"_ _Maybe you_ _'_ _ll just have to make it up to me._ _"_ Well, fuck. She's _flirting_ with me. And, it's fucking hot as hell. _How_ is it that this petite slip of a girl can make me so hard it almost _hurts_ , even when she's not in the same room as me?

"I think I could do that," I counter smoothly, willing my dick to stand down so that I can concentrate on keeping up my gentlemanly act, rather than blurting out a whole list of _filthy_ things that instantly spring to mind.

She laughs again, and it does _nothing_ to calm my growing erection, which twitches and nudges the zipper of my jeans. _"_ _I_ _'_ _ll believe that when I see it,_ " she challenges, and I laugh into the phone, falling onto my bed so I'm lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling. She's so _easy_ to talk to, it's incredible.

Grinning, I decide to make my move. "Fine. I'll prove it to you. Sunday. You and me. Mini golf."

Padme makes this little startled noise. " _Mini golf?"_ Does she sound… _impressed_? I fucking hope so. It took me _ages_ to come up with a suitable date idea – actually it was Ben who suggested something like this. His first date with Siri had been at Randall's Island not far from Central Park, and apparently it was really nice. I trust Ben on things like this – Ahsoka, not so much. I mean, out of the three of us, he's the _only_ one who's been in a long term relationship. I've never dated, and Ahsoka had a short relationship in high-school that didn't last very long. So, Ben is the guru in my eyes. If he says mini-golf is a good date idea, then I'll take his word for it

But, of course, I'm going to take all the credit for it.

"Yes. Mini golf. You'd better bring your A game, Naberrie, because I'm basically a professional here."

" _Oh, **really**?_ " she chuckles in my ear, and I can just imagine her lifting one of those perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me, her brown eyes dancing with the challenge. " _That_ _'_ _s some mighty big talk, Skywalker. Are you sure you can back it up? After all, I've been known to score a few hole-in-one's in my time."_

Her comment makes me smirk. It's refreshing how quick she is. I love it. "Well then," I concede. "Looks like it'll be a good match."

" _I hope you're up to the challenge. I don_ _'_ _t like to be disappointed, Anakin._ _"_

I throw my other arm – the one that's not holding my phone to my ear – behind my head and grin like the idiot I am. I've got it _bad_.

Really fucking bad.

It's almost _too_ easy to say the smooth counter-argument that's dancing on the tip of my tongue. "I _never_ disappoint, Padme." The innuendo rings loud and clear, and I wait for her to respond, expecting her to throw some shade, some of that witty banter I find so fucking sexy. Instead, I hear her breath catch in her throat and then a soft little giggle tickles my ear.

Fuck yes!

I've _embarrassed_ her. I've caught her _off_ _guard_ , and there's not a doubt in my mind that _she_ _'_ _s_ thinking about _it_ , about _me..._ about _it_ with _me_. It amuses me to no end. I feel a strong sense of masculine pride, that I can cause such reactions out of the very well-put-together Padme Naberrie. I bet she's blushing, all cute and pretty and adorable, and I actually have to reach down and _squeeze_ my dick hard through my jeans to keep myself under control.

Fuck, I want to _see_ her, want to see what I'm _doing_ to her. I want to see her all flustered, blushing and _aroused_ because of _me._ Is it too forward of me to start FaceTime?

 _Probably._

It suddenly grows quiet, almost _awkward,_ and I'm suddenly worried that I've scared her away. Shit.

Clearing my throat, I decide to change the subject. "So, how was your weekend?" Much safer ground, for the _both_ of us.

" _Fairly productive,_ _"_ she informs me. _"_ _I went to Sola_ _'_ _s promotion dinner at her firm on Saturday night and then volunteered at the soup kitchen on Sunday. How was yours?_ _"_

I run a hand through my hair, a little sheepish. I mean, my job is nothing fancy. I'm a trainee-mechanic at a garage downtown. It doesn't pay a heap, but it's enough to get me by. Besides, I love it. I love fixing things and working with engines. It's the main reason I'm studying mechanical engineering – eventually, my dream is to design military aircraft. Because of my studies, I mainly work weekends only, save for some exceptions, like this coming Sunday (which I specifically asked to have off so that I could take Padme out on another date).

I explain my job humbly, but not ashamed either, and she listens, actually sounding interested, or at least pretending to be, which I appreciate. My dreams are far less… _humanitarian_ than hers are – she wants to bring peace to all nations, I want to build planes. Even in my head, it sounds weak.

 _"_ _Aircraft, huh?_ _Wow. That_ _'_ _s a rather_ _…_ _big dream,_ _"_ she remarks, her voice lit with intrigue. Once again, it's one of those moments when I r _eally_ wish I could see her face, look into her eyes.

With a weak laugh, I nod my head. "Yeah… I've wanted to do that since I was a kid. I've always been fascinated by planes. I hope to get a pilot's license someday, too."

 _"_ _So then, that must mean you were one of those nerdy little geeks at school, weren_ _'_ _t you?_ _"_ she teases me.

"And if I was?" I retort quickly. "At least I wasn't a spoilt little daddy's girl who got everything she wanted."

For a moment, I'm worried I've offended her with my jab, until I hear her tinkling laughter in my ear, and I literally sigh in relief.

 _"_ _Are you making fun of me?_ _"_

"That depends," I quip with a smirk. "Are **_you_** making fun of **_me_** _?_ "

 _"_ _Absolutely._ _"_

 _Never_ would I have thought that being teased... _over the phone_ no less. would be _such_ a fucking turn on, but as I glance down at my jeans and see the tented bulge between my legs, caused by my erection straining against its confines, I realize that obviously, it _is._ Or, at least, _she_ is. She affects me like no other woman ever has. It _can_ _'_ _t_ just be because she's so beautiful, either, because I can't even _see_ her, and I'm as hard as fucking granite. I mean, I've been with _plenty_ of beautiful women. I mean, fuck, the number of times I've slept with Aayla, and she's one hot piece of ass, I'm not going to lie. And, yeah, they turn me on. But, it's _nothing_ like **_this_** _._ Not even close.

 **Everything** Padme does sets my nerves on fire. I can't control my reactions around her. It's her wits, her fire, her body, **and** her _soul_ … I want to see her so badly it fucking _hurts._ And, as shocking as this revelation is, I have to admit I want to do _more_ than just sleep with her. I want a _relationship_ with her. An _exclusive_ relationship _._

Ben's gonna lose his shit.

A soft sigh reaches my ear. _"_ _I'm sorry, but I_ _'_ _ve got to go to tutoring now, Anakin,_ _"_ Padme says sadly.

I frown. Damn it. "Oh, okay then."

 _"_ _What time on Sunday? So that I can make sure my_ _'_ _A game_ _'_ _is ready to go._ _"_

"3 pm," I tell her with a laugh. "And, be prepared to lose, as well."

She scoffs. _"_ _Aren_ _'_ _t you going to be a gentleman and let the lady win?_ _"_

Shaking my head, I snort through my nose. "I'm _not_ a gentleman."

Her beautiful laughter fills my ear once again and sends these delicious shivers down my spine – I'm not even kidding, I've actually got _goosebumps_. What? _"_ _Fine. Game on! I_ _'_ _ll see you on Sunday, then._ _"_

"Yeah, can't wait," I nod. "See you then, Padme. Bye."

 _"Bye, Anakin."_

She hangs up, and I flop my arm up beside my head, staring at the ceiling, this ridiculous grin plastered on my face. I'm seeing her on Sunday. Yeah, that's like six days away, but I'm so over the moon that I'll probably be elated about this _all_ week.

I hear Ahsoka knock on my bedroom door, and I grumble a curt, "Come in," because I know she'll want to pester me about my conversation with Padme, and I'd rather get it over and done with so I can deal with the issue in my pants while thinking about Padme. Fuck it, Ahsoka will probably make it disappear altogether, though.

She stands in the doorway, and I twist my head to look at her. "So? How'd it go?" she asks with a sly grin.

"Great. We're seeing each other again on Sunday." I tell her happily, the smile still plastered to my face.

"Look at you! You're fucking smitten, Skyguy," she gestures to the way I'm smiling, all stupid and giddy, and I can't say I disagree with her.

"What of it?" I challenge her, raising my eyebrows.

Shrugging, she simply shakes her. "Oh, nothing. I just _never_ thought I'd see the – _ohmygod!_ " she breaks off, her eyes growing wide in horror, and I sit up, suddenly, wondering what the hell she's going on about. " _Ew_ , that's gross! Oh my _god_ , I can't believe you're… while I'm – " She's staring directly at my crotch, this look of pure _disgust_ on her face, and she quickly shakes her head, averting her eyes.

Feeling vulnerable and uncomfortably exposed, I shift my body so she's no longer eyeballing my erection, which _thankfully_ is disappearing rather rapidly. "Uh – " I muttered awkwardly, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck.

Well, this is _really_ fucking awkward.

Ahsoka, it seems, agrees 100% and backs out of the room, keeping her eyes on the ceiling. "I'm just… heading out. I'll be back in… about… oh, say five years." She shuts my door, and I hear her leave the apartment, and I lie back down, putting my hands over my eyes. I probably won't be able to look Ahsoka in the eyes for the next two weeks after this.

But, on a positive note, at least my erection has disappeared.

For now.

Now that I'm alone, I realize I really, _really_ need to talk to someone about this. I _shouldn't_ be feeling the things I'm feeling this early on. It's just not… normal! I mean, the way I'm acting, it's like I'm in _love_ with her or something.

No. That _can_ _'_ _t_ be it. I don't even _know_ her all that well. Obviously, it's just my dick reacting because I haven't gotten laid in a few weeks…

Actually, now I think about it, I haven't had sex...not _once_...since I met Padme. It's going on three weeks, now. Three whole weeks, and I haven't had sex. No _wonder_ I'm acting so fucking psycho! No _wonder_ the sound of her voice makes me harder than a rock. It's just a bodily reaction, that's all. Nothing else. Simply biology.

There's a little voice in the back of my head, mocking me, but I ignore it. I won't accept any other answer to why she affects me so. I just… _can_ _'_ _t._ There's nothing emotional about this at all. It's _all_ physical. Emotions are messy, and they only cause pain and heartbreak and suffering. It's much easier when it's just _this._

The familiar sound of Ben coming home next door jerks me out of my thoughts, and I decide to go over and see him. He's the _only_ person I feel I can talk to about this. And, as much as he enjoys paying me out, he knows me better than anyone. He _gets_ me. Still, I make sure I take over a carton of beer. There's no way I can talk to him about… _this sort of thing_ , unless there is alcohol involved.

It's clear he's just come home from work, as he's still dressed in his pressed, light grey suit – sans jacket – crisp white shirt underneath with the top two buttons undone, brown dress shoes and a dark grey and blue striped tie, which has been loosened. He's mildly surprised to see me when he opens the door, even more so when I grin at him and thrust the beer carton into his hands. He eyes it suspiciously, before raising an eyebrow at me. "Anakin," he says slowly. "Don't tell me you haven't done your laundry again."

I chuckle. "Actually, I've been very proactive with my laundry lately. Thank you very much." Ben still eyes me curiously, as though there's some _ulterior_ motive for me being here. I put him out of his misery by answering his questioning stare. "Ben, can't a guy visit his best mate and have a few beers without there being an _agenda_?"

He smirks. "It's _you_ , Anakin. There's **always** an agenda."

Taking the beer back, I haul it under my arm and flash him a hurt look. "Fine, then. Don't take my beer. Buy your own."

Ben frowns. "Hey, I didn't say I didn't want it. Free beer is free beer." He steps aside, allowing me entrance, and I brush past him, taking care to knock into his shoulder deliberately, making him sigh. "Must you _always_ act like a child?" he asks, a bemused smirk on his face.

"Must you _always_ act like an old man?" I shoot back at him, before dumping my beer on his kitchen counter, taking one out and flopping down on his sofa, resting my bare feet up on the coffee table. It annoys him when I do things like this, when I mess up his _oh so organised_ apartment, but I can't help it. It's just too goddamn _easy_ to annoy him, and I almost take pride in being such a smartass – it's gotten me this far in life and hasn't let me down yet. Besides, it's hilarious to see Ben get all fussy about his couch cushions being messed up, or me putting my dirty feet all over the furniture. Sometimes, I tilt some of his artwork that adorns the walls ever so _slightly_ off centre when he's not looking and watch with glee as he struggles with himself _not_ to fix them up whilst I'm still there, and it's so fucking hilarious that it _kills_ me every time.

Yeah, I'm a real bastard like that.

"Make yourself at home, by all means," he drawls sardonically, eyeing the way I'm sprawled out on one end of his couch.

Taking a swig from my beer, I smirk at him. "Thanks. I will."

Ben just shakes his head, and then goes off into his bedroom, and then walks back out into the kitchen again, then goes to the bathroom, then comes back out and starts fiddling around with things in the cupboards. What is he _doing?_ Can't the guy _ever just_ relax?!

"Ben!" I call out to him, and he pops his head up from underneath the kitchen sink, glancing at me curiously. "Chill out, man! Sit down. Put your feet up. Have a beer."

His thick auburn eyebrows furrow into a frown, and he crosses his arms at me. It's moments like this when I wonder if Ben really _is_ an old man, with how he treats me sometimes. Rather patronisingly so. Though, admittedly, I can't exactly blame him. I'm a first-class pain in the ass. "Just because _you_ can unwind at the drop of a hat, doesn't mean we _all_ have that ability, Anakin," he scolds me.

I shrug nonchalantly, brushing off his comment. "You should try it sometime," I advise, with all the pretence of wisdom. "Might help you relax a bit."

"Are you calling me uptight?" he asks, slightly amused by my comment.

I grin impishly and take another sip of my beer. "Absolutely not."

Shaking his head in defeat, Ben fully undoes his tie and takes off his shoes, carrying them off to his room, then returns, takes a beer and sits on the couch opposite me. I smirk, victorious, as I watch him lie across his couch, resting his sock-clad feet up against the armrest.

"You're a bad influence, Anakin," he tells me, though it's not an accusation as such, merely a statement of fact.

I shrug. "I just take pleasure in the simple things in life," I inform him. "You worry too much."

Ben rolls his sea-green eyes. " _You_ don't worry enough. Sometimes, I wonder _how_ you managed to get on the Dean's list. Did you even go to class today?" He gives me a once over, noting my casual attire of faded blue jeans and an old maroon sweater over the top of a white t-shirt. His eyes then drift up to my hair, which I know is an absolute mess, because I haven't been bothered to tame it all day.

"Nah," I reply with a lazy shake of my head. "My workshop was cancelled, and I couldn't be fucked going in for just _one_ lecture."

"And _how_ is it that you pass?"

Grinning, I flash him a wink. "I might a lazy fuck, Ben, but I'm a _smart_ lazy fuck."

He mutters something under his breath and rolls his eyes at me, clearly not impressed by my habits, but it's nothing new. "So, if you didn't go to class, what _did_ you do all day?"

A wide smile pulls at my lips. "I called Padme." My mood considerably lightens at the memory of our first phone conversation, what I deem to be a rather big step forward, because I rarely call _anyone_. Only Mom.

The sigh he releases is almost comical, and he shakes his head in complete exasperation. " _Finally!_ It's about bloody time!"

"Hey," I tell him with a frown. "You know I'm not good at this sort of thing." I'm new at this whole dating thing, and it's daunting and confusing as hell, and I'm _so_ out of my comfort zone it's not funny. I don't need Ben to ridicule me for it.

"Did I hear that correctly?" he eyes me in shock. "Anakin Skywalker is not _good_ at something?!" He clasps a hand to his chest in mock surprise, clearly amused with himself.

Not me. I'm _far_ from amused. "Fuck off," I fall for his taunt, narrowing my eyes. "You _know_ what I mean. You should be _proud_ of me, actually. Because, I scored _another_ date with her!"

He eyes me curiously. "There must be something wrong with this girl," he teases instantly, but even though he's only joking, I feel a rush of defensive _protectiveness_ overwhelm me, and I scowl at him. How _dare_ he even think of insulting Padme!

"There's _nothing_ wrong with her," I snap. "She's flawless!"

Ben holds his hands up in surrender, clearly amused by my reaction. "Alright, alright! I didn't mean it like that. Bloody hell!" When I don't say anything and keep up my fierce exterior, he sighs and drops his hands. "From everything you've told me about her, I'm sure she's wonderful. But, she _must_ have some questionable judgement, Anakin, if she's dating _you_."

The dig crumbles my defences just a little and I smirk. "Trust me," I concede honestly. "I'm _just_ as surprised by this as you are." Honestly, I'm still shocked that she agreed to see me again. That she _wants_ to. Even after I took three days to call her. I don't know _what_ exactly that I've done to win her over so far, but I fucking hope it continues to work, because I don't want to stop seeing her. Not _ever_.

"So," Ben asks as he sits up, crossing his legs. "Did you take my suggestion?"

Nodding, I sip my beer again. "Yeah. She _loved_ the idea. I owe you one," I add seriously, because it's true. Without Ben, I probably would've been stumped for a date idea. Mini-golf actually sounds great – something fun and competitive and _different_.

"Don't worry about it," he dismisses my comment with a wave of his hand. "I'm happy to help."

Biting down on my lip, I tap my fingers impatiently against my leg. The reason I came over here in the first place was to talk to Ben about Padme, but now that I'm _here_ , I'm suddenly nervous as hell. I mean, it's pretty pathetic really. And, knowing Ben, he'll probably tease me about it for weeks (because I would do the same to him, let's be honest here).

Ahsoka's right. I really _am_ weak. And, pathetic.

Biting the bullet, I sigh and hurriedly blurt out, "Icantstopthinkingabouther." It all comes out as one word, all strung together, and I'm not really that surprised when Ben tips his head at me in confusion and asks me to repeat myself.

Inhaling deeply, I give it a second shot. "I can't stop thinking about her," I say again, much slower and more deliberate this time. Once the words leave my mouth, I brace myself for the onslaught of taunts that he'll no doubt hit me with, but it never comes. Instead, he simply stares at me, a small smile on his face and remains silent. I don't want him to be silent. I want him to tell me how _wrong_ it is for me to feel like this… _already._

With a huff, I decide to probe him. "I'm _serious_ , Ben!" I cry out. "I literally _can_ ' _t_ stop thinking about her. Day or night! It doesn't matter. It's…it's so fucking _distracting._ Look!" I hold up my left hand, where there's a nice, thin slice through the side of my index finger. "I _almost_ chopped my hand off at work because I was thinking about _her!_ What's _wrong_ with me?!" I scan his face for some sort of resolution, seeking an explanation for why I feel this way.

Shaking his head, Ben only sighs. "There's nothing wrong with you, Anakin," he tells me quietly. He's regarding me with an almost _endearing_ expression, and it confuses the fuck out of me.

"Yes, there is!" I argue, hotly. "There _must_ be. I've only been on **two** dates with her and already I'm acting like… like – "

" – like you're in _love_ with her," he finishes with a knowing smile.

The word _love_ makes me falter. No. I don't love her. I _can_ _'_ _t_ love her. It's not… it's just _not_ possible. There's no way I could be in love with her after **two** dates. No fucking _way_ in hell. Just the _thought_ is utterly ridiculous.

"No. I'm _not_ in love with her," I respond firmly, once I've gathered my thoughts.

"It sounds like you are to me," Ben reasons diplomatically, placing his beer down on the coffee table and clasping his hands together. "I felt the exact same way after I met Siri, you know."

 _That_ surprises me. Ben hardly _ever_ talks about his ex-girlfriend. They had a… _difficult_ ending, a few years ago, when she'd been offered a huge job opportunity in London. They'd been fighting about it for weeks, until Ben decided he needed to let her go and live her own life. It had taken him a while to recover, and even _now_ , he still refrains from mentioning her whenever possible. I know better than to broach the topic. So, it's surprising that _he_ _'_ _s_ the one to bring it up.

"R-really?!" I splutter stupidly.

He nods sadly. "I was smitten as soon as I saw her. Every day I thought about her, and every night I dreamt about her. I couldn't help it. Didn't take me long to realize I was in love with her. I mean, who wouldn't be? To _me_ , she was the most perfect woman in the world…" his voice trails off, and he closes his eyes at the memory, and I watch him sadly, because I know how much it hurts him to think about her.

Yet, the way he's talking hits far _too_ close to home for my liking. To _me,_ Padme is the most perfect woman in the world; there's simply _no_ other competition. She outshines them all. If Ben had thought the same about Siri, and he'd been _in love_ with her, then maybe... just maybe I _**am**_ in love with _Padme...?_ I have to think about this.

"I've never been in love before," I tell him. "I don't _do_ that. I _don_ ' _t_ fall in love _._ I just…"

"Sleep around," Ben finishes for me and I give a feeble nod.

He shakes his head and smiles at me. " _Everyone_ has the ability to love, Anakin. It's what makes us human. And you haven't even slept with her, have you?" When I shake my head, he grins, all knowing and annoying. "So, it has to be emotional. It can't just be a physical thing for you."

"But… _so **soon**?!_ I hardly know her, Ben. Not – not _really_."

"Sometimes, when you know, you just _know_ ," he says, shrugging his shoulders, as though it's not a big deal. "It's not an exact science. What do you _want_ me to tell you? That it's _bad_ to be in love with someone? Because it's _not_. It's actually the most _wonderful_ thing you can ever experience in life. It's painful and it's hard sometimes, but the _feeling_ of loving someone and of _them_ loving _you_ in return…" he looks away, out the window. "It's one of life's greatest treasures."

I ponder his words quietly, and a silence exists between us. He's seriously making me rethink _everything_ I think I know about myself.

Like, _seriously._

Maybe he's right. Maybe I **_am_** in love with Padme. What other explanation _could_ there be for the way I feel about her?! She consumes my thoughts every waking second and every sleepless night. I see her face when I close my eyes, I _hear_ her voice and her laughter when I'm alone. I _dream_ about her lips on mine, the feel of holding her hand clasped tightly in mine, the beautifully intoxicating scent and silky softness of her skin, her breathtaking smile, the way she says my name…

"What do I _do_?" I suddenly ask, lifting my head up slowly, at a complete loss about _all_ of this.

It's then that Ben smiles widely at me, making the skin around his eyes crinkle. "Embrace it," he tells me wisely, and it's _this_ that reaffirms I made the right decision in coming to Ben. " _Let_ yourself love her. Who knows, she may even learn to love you in return...But, y'know, I _told_ you that you'd finally met your match in Padme. Seems like I was _right_." Ben grins, delighted to be right for once, and winks at me.

I can't help but agree with him. He's right. Irritatingly so, but still. So, instead of firing back my usual cocky retort, I surrender with a beer salute and a smirk, _because_...

The thought of Padme being _in_ _love_ with **me** has me grinning like an idiot, and I can't bring myself to stop. Instead, I decide to break up this sappy, sentimental conversation, because I suddenly feel my masculinity slipping away, and I may need to punch a wall just to feel like a _man_ again.

Besides, that's quite _enough_ of getting in touch with our ' _feminine side.'_

"I'm surprised you've stayed single all these years, Ben, if you can spew out romantic crap like that," I jest. "You must have a thousand girls dropping their panties for you on a daily basis."

He rolls his eyes at me. "I'm not _you_ , Anakin. I don't care about _dropped panties_ as much as _you_ do."

"Yeah, right," I fix him with an amused stare. "You're a handsome, single guy in the prime of his youth, living in New York City for fuck's sake! Don't try and tell me you _don't care_ about dropped panties!" I give him a pointed _don_ _'_ _t-fuck-with-me_ look that has him raising his eyebrows, unimpressed. _"_ Get real, Ben...you're telling me that you don't have your sights set on _anyone_? _Come_ _on_ , you work with heaps of women! No sexy receptionist caught your eye?"

He blushes furiously and swallows. "Well…now you mention it, there's this one girl…Satine Kryze…she works in advertising…"

I sit up a little straighter at this sudden divulgence of information. I was only teasing him. I hadn't expected him to _actually_ be interested in someone. This is just getting better and better. "This Satine...Nice looking girl?"

Ben fixes me with a secretive smile. " _Very_ nice," he says, and I grin at him.

"What are you waiting for then, Mr Romance…go up to her and start talking about love and _life_ _'_ _s greatest treasures_ and all that shit. She'll be crawling into your bed in seconds."

He deadpans. "Oh, yes. Because **that** ' **s** so _very_ _romantic_. Honestly, Anakin," he shakes his head at me in exasperation. "You could learn a thing or two about real _romance,_ you know."

I throw my arms up behind my head casually. " _Nah_. That's what I have _you_ for."

Ben opens his mouth, about to retort, but decides against it and merely shakes his head, muttering under his breath. Just then, my stomach decides to make itself heard, and I yawn. "Fuck, I'm starving. Wanna get a pizza?"

Flashing me a sly grin, he nods. "As long as _you_ ' _re_ paying. You _did_ say you owed me, after all."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Another update! Again, thank you for your patience. I haven't forgotten about this story. I promise. But, I will admit, I'll probably stop updating as quickly on this one, because I'm so close to finishing TGFH. But, once that's out the way, then I'll definitely be right back here, writing these two adorable cuties :) I hope you enjoy this chapter! The hardest part about being a female writer and writing from a male's perspective, is making it realistic, but I'm using my own male friends as inspiration, so hopefully I'm doing it justice. No flames, please :)

* * *

 _Ding!_

My phone goes off _loudly_ , echoing throughout the entire lecture hall. All eyes turn to look at me, and I make a grimace and swear under my breath. There's _nothing_ more embarrassing than when your phone goes off in the middle of a lecture, when it's dead silent, and then _everyone_ stares at you like you've got the fucking plague or something.

And, it's _worse_ when it happens in Professor Windu's class. He's got some sort of grudge against me, I swear, and I don't even know _why_. I've done nothing…Well, that's probably _why_ he dislikes me, to be honest, because I _don't_ do anything in his class. I barely turn up to his classes, except when we have an in-class quiz, and yet I _still_ produce high distinctions. Professors hate that shit. They _hate_ lazy high-achievers. Like me.

I cast my eyes down to the front of the room, where Windu is glaring up at me, and I hastily look away. He's _probably_ going to reprimand me after class for being disruptive, but it's not _my_ fault. I actually _was_ paying attention – I _was_ writing notes, I _was_ listening…Hey, I even asked a _question!_ It's not _my_ fault someone decided to text me. If it's Ahsoka, I _swear_ I'm gonna fucking kill her when I get home.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, my mood immediately brightens. It's a message from Padme. A massive, stupid smile lights up my face as I read it: **Does this count as practice?** And she's sent me a fucking _winky_ _face_. You've got to be kidding me, right?! She _knows_ what that means, surely. She's got to! Is she trying to kill me?! I'm in the middle of a _lecture!_ I _can't_ get a hard on in the middle of class because she's sending me fucking _winky faces!_

The message is accompanied by a photo of a large, flatscreen T.V, which is projecting what looks like _Wii Golf_. A little, curly, blonde head is off to the left of the screen, watching intently. The sight makes me laugh, which I hide behind my hand. She's playing _Wii Golf?_ That's actually fucking adorable. I can't even _remember_ the last time I played with a _Wii._ We never had one at home, but one of my friends did, and I would always go over to his house, and we'd play _MarioKart_ for _hours._ It was the greatest thing!

Grinning like the smitten idiot I am, I hurriedly type back, **Is that Wii Golf?** , and reciprocate the winky face. It's not _too_ bold if she's done it first, I guess. That little flashing dots line appears as she types her response, and I quickly flick my phone to silent, so that I don't disrupt the class _again_.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes with her reply, and I eagerly open it. **Yes. I'm babysitting my nieces. Thought I'd get in some practice. You'd better be afraid. I'm winning.** Again, her text is accompanied by an assortment of emojis, and it's cute. It reminds me of Ahsoka, in a way.

 **And how old are your nieces again?** I reply immediately with a smirk.

Her response is lightening fast, I can almost picture her elegant fingers typing out the message furiously. **That is irrelevant. They are seasoned professionals. I am merely a novice.**

Just as I go to respond, I feel Rex breathing down my neck. "Who're you texting, mate?" He drawls slyly in his thick Australian accent. I turn to see him smirking at me over my shoulder, one of his thick, black eyebrows raised suggestively. Rex is this big, muscular, burly Australian exchange student, with cropped black hair, a long, broad nose and brown skin. He looks intimidating, particularly with his tribal tattoo that stretches across the plane of his powerful chest and down his arm, but, really, he's a pretty good guy, very down to earth and sarcastic as fuck. He came over last year from Brisbane with his twin brother, Cody, and we all gravitated towards each other, probably because we all have such a dry sense of humour and enjoy fucking with people.

"No one," I respond evasively, instantly somewhat defensive. It's ridiculous, but I don't _really_ want anyone but Ahsoka and Ben to know about Padme just yet. I mean, we don't even have a _label_. Yeah, we're dating, I suppose, but nothing's _official_. We haven't talked about it. And, because she's _so_ _far_ out of my league, it's possible that she'll get fed up with me and nix it, and then I'll _never_ hear the end of it from Rex, or Cody, or even Kit, one of our other friends, for that matter. So, yeah. It's better to just keep it quiet. Just keep Padme to myself for now.

"Another one of your conquests, eh?" Rex persists like the annoying fuck he is, the smirk on his face almost feral.

"I never talk to a girl again after I've fucked her, buddy. You know that." Well, that's _usually_ the case. Except with Aayla. We have an… _agreement._ Or, we _had._ I'm not interested in sleeping with her anymore. Not in the slightest. The **only** girl I want from now on is Padme. And, the _acknowledgement_ of that fact doesn't really surprise me anymore. I've accepted it. I want her more than I've _ever_ wanted anything, and I'm _going_ to have her. I won't stop pursuing her until I've succeeded. Padme _is_ going to be _mine._

Rex gives me a knowing wink, but backs off and continues listening to Windu, which leaves me free to keep texting Padme without being judged. This back and forth banter between us…it's like drawn out foreplay. It's _so_ fucking alluring. Somehow, it only _heightens_ my need for her. This massive build-up of sexual tension that, when it comes down to it and I _finally_ get her into my bed, is probably going to make me _explode_. I just _know_ that it's gonna be fucking phenomenal between us.

My phone buzzes again, and I grin as I read her latest message, which, once again, is riddled with emojis. **Score! Hole in one! You're so gonna loose on Sunday!**

I chuckle under my breath and type a quick reply: **Just wait til you play against someone your own age Padme. Then we'll see who's gonna loose,** just as Windu dismisses us and we start filing out of the lecture hall. I make a break for the door, because I _don't_ want to get called back and told off for interrupting the lecture.

Once we're outside, we meet up with Cody and Kit. They'd arrived at the lecture way earlier than Rex and I and had snagged seats in the middle, whereas we'd been forced to sit right on the end because we were late – yet _another_ reason Windu probably hates me. We decide to go and get food, because it's just after noon, and we're all starving, as normal. So, we make the short journey down to Mel's, this burger joint that has some _seriously_ good burgers for a decent price, and pretty cheap beer. It's one of our regular spots to eat when we have classes all day.

Our favourite booth is free, so we slide in and instantly order a round of beers. I have work later this afternoon, but one won't hurt. As we peruse the menus – well, _they_ do, because I already _know_ what I want, and I smirk imagining Padme teasing me about my _'simple needs'_ again – I can't help but notice what a bunch of misfits we four are. There's me, tall and blonde, broad shouldered and lean muscled; Rex and Cody, dark haired, stocky and muscular and somewhat square shaped; and then Kit, thin and tall (though not as tall as me), with light brown dreads he always has pulled back into a ponytail. _None_ of us look like engineering students at all. It's actually fucking hilarious.

As we order, the waitress immediately flirts with Rex, which he takes in his stride, flirting shamelessly back with her. It's the accent, I swear. He only has to speak, and he's got girls fawning all over him like he's Liam Hemsworth or something. He knows it, too, and uses it to his advantage. Once he actually told a girl that Hugh Jackman was his uncle. Not to mention that he _constantly_ brags about how many people he's saved from crocodile attacks. It's total bullshit, but he says it so well, so _seriously_ , that I can't really blame the girls for believing him.

I order my usual, the _Double Double_ , just as Padme texts me again. Every time my phone buzzes I get this little shudder of excitement pulse through me, and I can't explain it. It's not a message, just a photo. Of the T.V again, only this time, it's a close up of the score. She won. I shake my head at her, grinning. Is she _deliberately_ trying to be adorable? No, probably not. It just comes natural for her.

 **Congratulations. You beat a 6 y.o.** , I shoot back at her, unable to keep the stupid grin off my face.

Within seconds, her reply comes through: **Eight year old actually.** As though that somehow makes her victory more _profound_ , like it was actually a challenge. And, again, there's _another_ fucking wink. I've come to the conclusion that she knows _exactly_ what she's doing, like she gets some sort of _pleasure_ from teasing me like this. And, I _love_ it.

Rex elbows me in the ribs and chuckles, low and deep. "No one, huh? Yeah, riiiight, Mate!"

Scowling at him, I clench my teeth and instantly close my phone screen, shoving it hastily back in my pocket like I've just been caught doing something I shouldn't. "Fuck off."

He just gives me a knowing smirk, waggling his eyebrows, and I'm half tempted to punch him in the face. _This_ is exactly **why** I don't want him, or Cody, or Kit, to know about Padme. I'll never, _never_ hear the end of it. It's bad enough that Ahsoka teases me every chance _she_ gets. I don't need it from them as well.

"Anakin?"

The familiar voice makes me turn my head, and I see Aayla Secura standing before me. And, regardless of the fact that I'm pretty much head over heels for Padme at this point, I'd have to be blind not to think she's hot. Tall and curvaceous with smooth copper skin, she's attractive, and she definitely knows it. Her dark brown eyes sparkle with mischief as she smirks at me, hand on her cocked hip, and she flips her thick, black tresses over her shoulder somewhat dramatically.

"Aayla? What're you doing here?"

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Kit staring at her, wide eyed, open mouthed, cheeks tinged red, and I smirk. While Rex, Cody, and I have _definitely_ had our fair share of women, Kit is a little more _gentlemanly,_ I suppose. As far as I know, he's only been with two. He doesn't give exact numbers, probably because he's embarrassed, but the way he's staring at Aayla, like he's never seen a beautiful woman before, makes me wonder… Although, I have a feeling that I wear that _exact_ sameexpression whenever I see Padme, so maybe it's not uncommon.

"I could ask you the same thing," she drawls with a laugh. "I'm just meeting friends. You?"

"Lunch," I respond with a casual shrug. "Just finished classes for the day."

She makes a face, somewhere between a frown and a grimace. "Lucky you. I've got one more this afternoon." Aayla's an English major at Columbia. The two of us met when we were out clubbing one night, and, true to form, I took her back to my place and slept with her. She has a reputation like me, so maybe that's why I decided she could be _useful_ , when I'm lonely, and I propositioned her with our suggested _arrangement_. A year later, and we sleep together occasionally, when we feel like it. It's not serious, and nothing's come of it and never will. I mean, she's a pretty good fuck, but our lack of attraction to each other is mutual. It's purely sex between us. Just to quell an urge. Nothing else.

"Hey," she tilts her head to the side. "What are you doing later? Wanna come over?" The way she says it, so causally, gives an illusion of innocence, of just a get together between two friends, but I know what she's _really_ asking. At any other point in my life, I would have jumped at it, because I haven't been laid in three weeks, but **all** I can think about is Padme, and my mind instantly repulses the idea. Aayla Secura, though hot as fuck, is _not_ Padme Naberrie (and never could be), and fromnowon _,_ Padme's the _**only**_ girl I want to sleep with. Even if I have to wait an entire year for her. I _know_ she's worth the wait.

So, I shake my head and give her the politest smile I can muster. "Sorry, I've got to work tonight."

Unlike most girls, who would have been visibly annoyed at being rejected, Aayla just shrugs her shoulders and nods her head, like it's not a big deal. "Alright. That's cool. Some other time then, maybe."

I don't really know what to say to that, so I just nod and mutter, "Yeah," because it's the polite thing to do, when really, I _know_ it's never going to happen again. Ever since I met Padme, my entire life has just narrowed down to _her_. I can't even _think_ about anyone else. It just doesn't compute. She's the _only_ one that exists in my mind now.

"Well, I'll see you around," she gives me a smile and then glances around at the rest of the guys. "Bye, boys." With, what I imagine is an attempt at a sexy hair flip (and it probably _is_ to every hot blooded male other than myself), she turns and walks away. Immediately, I go back to eating my burger, but around me, my friends are frozen, almost shell-shocked. When I look up, I see them staring at me, open mouthed, like I've just sprouted another head or something, and I frown in confusion, and swallow my mouthful.

" _Wha_ \- ?" I demand.

Rex speaks first, eyeing me with an amused smirk. "Who the fuck was _that_?"

"Just a…friend," I shrug.

"A friend you fuck?" Cody supplies smoothly from across the table, as he takes a swig from his beer.

"On occasion," I concede, seeing no reason to lie.

Rex shakes his head, briefly dumbfounded and lets out a long whistle. "Fuckin' _oath_ , Mate! I've _gotta_ get me some friends like _that._ "

I grin at his reaction. "Well, go right ahead. I don't want to sleep with her anymore, so the spot is empty."

His dark eyes light up a little at the thought, before he narrows them suddenly, suspicious. "Why?" he asks, slyly, raising an eyebrow. "She's not a good root?"

Taking another bite of my burger, I shake my head casually. "Nah, she goes alright. I just…I dunno – I'm not interested anymore." I tell him as I shrug my shoulders like it's no big deal.

He waggles his eyebrows immaturely. "Got nothing to do with that so called _no one_ that's got you grinning like an idiot every time your phone lights up, does it?"

My eyes narrow into frustrated slits of annoyance, and I grit my teeth. Did he _really_ need to bring that up in front of the other two? "I don't know what you're on about," I lie immediately, and I can sense that he doesn't buy it one bit, but changes the subject, thankfully.

Slapping Kit on the shoulder roughly, causing him to almost choke on his beer, Rex grins mischievously. "Well, I reckon Kit should be the one to go there, what do you say, mate?"

Still spluttering, Kit shakes his head immediately, horrified by the suggestion. "W-what? _Me_?" He flicks his green eyes from me, to Cody, to Rex and then back to me and then he coughs.

I shrug my shoulders, bemused by his reaction. "Sure. Why not?"

"You look like you could use a good shag, mate," Cody observes. "Besides, she can't be _too_ fussy. I mean, she slept with Anakin."

"Fuck you!" I snap my head up at the slight on my manhood. It's not exactly _that_ insulting because he's right. I'm _not_ particularly fussy either, but still. That's not the point. I have my reputation for a _reason_ , here.

"I don't even _know_ her," Kit explains feebly, as though that's supposed to mean something to any of us. It doesn't. As horrible as it sounds. "I don't just _sleep_ with random girls. That's you guys' territory. Not mine."

Rex just laughs and shakes his head. "Live a little, mate."

Bravely, Kit shakes his head and makes a firm stance of chivalry, and despite myself, I feel a little proud of him. At least _he_ has morals. One of us has to. " _No_ ," he declares. "If you want to, go ahead. I won't."

"Suit yourself."

We continue eating, and the boys order another round of beers, which I grudgingly decline because I can't show up to work drunk. Watto is annoyed with me as it is because I asked for time off on Sunday so I could take Padme out. Going to work drunk will only add another cross against my name. When we finish, I pay my part of the bill, then quickly get a cab back to my place, so I can get dressed for work.

Ahsoka's just come home from her shift at the coffee shop and looks up from where she's on the sofa watching Netflix when I enter, and greets me with a quick, "Hey," still in her uniform of black jeans, tee-shirt and denim apron she has tied around her waist. Her shoes lie in front of the door from when she kicked them off, and I almost trip over them.

"Fucking hell, Snips," I growl, kicking her shoes out of the way. "What have I _told_ you about leaving your shoes in the fucking doorway?! I could've broken my neck!"

She shrugs and dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand. "The day _you_ actually clean _our_ apartment is the day you can tell me off about where I leave my shoes, Skyguy," she quips back, and I smirk at the truth of her comment. I do laundry, sometimes, but actually _clean_ the apartment? Nope.

"What time d'you reckon you'll be home?" she asks, as I walk into my bedroom to change my clothes. "I feel like making dinner tonight. Will you want some?"

I pull on my navy Dickies and slip a dark grey t-shirt that's already covered in oil stains over my head, before putting on and lacing up my work boots. "Sure. Whatcha making?"

She clicks her tongue as I clip on my tool belt and then head back out to grab my navy work jacket, plus my wallet, keys and phone, stuffing them in my pockets. "Dunno yet," she replies vaguely. "I'll think of something."

"Right," I nod, then, because I'm feeling particularly affectionate (and guilty about making her uncomfortable the other day), I approach her and press a sweet kiss on top of her dark hair. "Well, I'll see you later, Snips."

The bright smile she gives me makes me feel warm inside. Honestly, she's a little shit, but she's _still_ cute. It reminds me of how she was when she was younger, when she didn't swear as much and actually looked _up_ to me. Sometimes, I miss _that_ Ahsoka. "Have a good day at work," she wishes me as I go to leave, and I shake my head and grumble back, "Not possible." I hear her laughter all the way down the stairs to the first floor of our building.

I take a cab downtown, and it's only ten or so minutes, until I get to work. For once, I'm actually on time, which is a first, I must say. My time management skills are seriously lax, something I'm _constantly_ reminded of by Watto. He greets me sullenly when I arrive, making a snide, sarcastic remark about how I'm ' _trying_ _to_ _get_ _back_ _in my_ _good_ _books_ _by_ _turning_ _up_ _early_ ,' but I ignore him. He's a funny looking man – middle aged, short, squat, with a beer gut, balding black hair on his potato-shaped head and an overly long, crooked nose. His hands and fingernails are always black with grease, and his beady, black eyes are permanently squinting at everyone and everything.

Because I'm in the shit, he gives me the most work, and I am forced to stay back later than the other two apprentices. Apparently, I've got to catch up on the hours I'll miss on Sunday, and Watto is _determined_ to make me work fucking hard for it. He's a fucking asshole, but he also pays me, so I go about my work as quietly and as quickly as I can. It doesn't mean that I do it willingly, though. Constant strings of profanity leak from my mouth as I lie, on my back, underneath my latest patient, and I grow angrier by the minute.

Suddenly, my phone _dings_ again, and I stop what I'm doing and pull it out, thinking it's Ahsoka telling me she's changed her mind and decided to order takeout. It's from Padme again. I beam down at my phone as I read her message: **How has your day been?** There's just _something_ about her that can make my entire mood brighten instantly. It's phenomenal, and I wouldn't trade it for _anything_.

Checking over my shoulder to make sure Watto isn't looking, I quickly respond: **Not too bad. But I'm at work now and my boss is making me stay back late.** I send the corresponding frustrated emoji, which is indicative of my actual mood.

 **Aw I'm sorry Anakin. I hope he isn't too hard on you,** is her response, with several sad faces after the message.

The fact that she actually _cares_ about my frustration makes me laugh in a happy, bewildered kind of way, because I just _can't_ believe that she even remotely likes me. She's _so_ perfect and pure and brilliant, and I'm a lazy, smartass, engineering student who complains about almost _everything,_ and really, there's no reason at _all_ for her to like me. It leaves me feeling giddy, like a lovesick girl, and my stomach does that flip-flop thing again.

 **I'm feeling much better now I'm talking to you.**

All she replies with is one of those blushing smiley faces, and I'm elated beyond fucking belief. Her message _encourages_ me, somehow, to work harder, faster, to get the job done quicker so that I can finally go home. Where I can actually _call_ her.

And then...it _hits_ me.

Ben was right. I think I'm _really_ in love with her, and an awed grin settles on my face.

It's the _greatest_ fucking feeling in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I've finally finished this chapter! Hooray! Took me way longer than I thought it would - had to work all weekend and hardly got any chance to write! But here it is, the mini-golfing date between our two adorkable lovebirds that you've all been waiting for (including me). Hope you like it!

* * *

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I wait outside Randall's Island, and I take it out, grinning as I see a message from Padme:

 **Almost there!**

She's accompanied her text message with a smiley, a golf ball, and a trophy, and I can't help but laugh at her. It's so adorable.

Smirking, I shoot her a quick reply:

 **You** **'** **re confident for someone who** **'** **s gonna lose. Just saying.**

Seconds later, my phone vibrates again… She's sent me three of those crying/laughing faces. Mocking me. _Again._ And, I just can't stop grinning. I feel like a moron. But, it's the _best_ feeling in the world. I love it.

This banter back and forth via text has been happening all week, and it's only heightened my _need_ to see her. We've called each other almost every night, talking for one to two hours at a time, and it's increased my awareness each time of how _perfect_ she is for me, how much we _complement_ each other.

She arrives moments later, stepping out of the cab and beaming at me, and I return her smile with mirrored enthusiasm. As always, she looks _gorgeous._ This is the first time I've seen her in a pair of pants, and the sight leaves me speechless. She's in a pair of light denim jeans with the cuffs rolled up, a cream cashmere sweater and a pair of elegant, tan leather oxfords. Her stunning, chestnut curls are pulled loosely back off of her face into her signature messy bun and a tartan scarf is draped stylishly around her neck. She also has a small tan wallet purse with a long skinny strap draped over her head, across her body, resting against her left hip.

 _Beautiful._

Padme is _always_ dressed to perfection whenever I see her, and yet, _every_ time, I'm drawn to a particular aspect of her that is somehow different. This time, it's her exquisite figure. Her tight jeans leave _very_ little to my overly active imagination, clinging deliciously to the soft, supple curves of her hips which flare out into long, slender thighs and toned calves. How can someone so _tiny_ have legs that _long?_ It doesn't quite add up, but I'm certainly not going to complain about it. Each step she takes draws my attention to the sensual sway of her hips; hips, I feel confident, that would fit _perfectly_ in my hands, her ass, too. I just _know_ it.

"Hi," she says as she reaches me, her brown eyes quickly scanning me up and down, taking note of my jeans, my navy sweater, and casual black jacket, before settling once again on my face. I can't help but swallow nervously at her appraisal – she has this way of disarming me with just one glance from her gorgeous brown eyes.

"Hi," I grin down at her, and, deciding to be bold, bend down and kiss her cheek softly. Her skin is _so_ soft under my lips, like silk, and I can't help but linger there just a little longer than what's appropriate, savouring her exquisite taste, her intoxicating scent. I absolutely love the delicate floral perfume she wears. It really suits her, and I can't help but wish to have that delightful scent on my pillows and sheets. When I pull away, I see her cheeks have flushed a pretty pink, and she's blinking at me shyly through her long eyelashes, and it makes me swell with arrogant pride. "You look _beautiful_."

My honest compliment makes her grow shy and adorable, and she bows her head bashfully, a soft giggle escaping her lips. "Thanks. You look pretty good, yourself," she concedes. "It's a pity good looks won't do you any good, though. You're about to go down, Skywalker." Her challenge is accompanied by a raise of one of her dark, slender eyebrows, and the corner of her lips curves into a smirk.

Her sudden competitiveness stokes my ego, and I grin and puff up my chest, smirking down at her. "We'll see about that, Naberrie. Hope you brought your A-game."

I take her hand in mine, twining our fingers together, and we walk towards the pro shop, where we purchase a round of 18 holes and get our golf balls, putters and scorecard. As we peruse the racks, choosing our putters, I smirk at her. "The kids section is over there," I tease, pointing to the rack of smaller, brightly coloured, plastic putters on the adjacent wall. "These ones here are too big for you."

The icy glare she gives me in return chills me to the core, but for some reason, it only makes me _more_ attracted to her. She's so fucking _sexy_ when she's irritated – the way her dark eyes flash and her top lip quivers actually turns me on. Fuck, I'm so screwed.

"Are you making fun of me?" There goes that eyebrow of hers again.

Grinning down at her, because really, she's _so_ tiny, I just run a hand through my hair. "Wouldn't dream of it," I tell her with a wink, and she exhales on a laugh, smirking up at me, letting me know that she's not mad at me, not really. Just amused.

Once we've got everything we need, we head out onto the course. Despite the slight fall chill, the sun is out in all its glory, and it's actually a _really_ nice day. Not a cloud in the sky. There's a young, teenage couple ahead of us, so we have to wait for them to finish the first hole before we can start. We take a seat on the nearby bench, watching them. They can't be older than sixteen by the look of them, and the way they're acting makes it pretty obvious they're on a first date. The girl is giggling and blushing like crazy, and the boy keeps stuttering and trying to crack jokes.

I look across at Padme, and see she's wearing the exact same amused expression as I am. "Reckon they're on a first date?" I voice my opinion quietly.

She returns my wide grin, a wicked gleam in her dark eyes. "Absolutely. In fact, I bet you, she'll try to play the novice, and pretend she doesn't know what she's doing, so he'll come up behind her and help her." She purses her lips and nods her head for emphasis.

I lean closer to her ear, my breath wafting over her cheek, and I take pleasure in the way her own breath catches in her throat just _slightly_ , giving herself away, informing me that she is _just_ as affected by me as I am by her…she's just better at hiding it. "Is that what _you're_ going to do?" I ask, kind of hopeful that she does.

She actually _shivers_ and turns her head to meet my gaze, and then her tongue sneaks out to wet her top lip, and I'm transfixed, frozen to the spot, and suddenly, I forget how to breathe. I literally have to force myself **not** to get a semi, but it's so fucking difficult when she's doing shit like _this_. She's gotta know what she's doing to me… how she affects me. She _has_ to…I'm like the least subtle person in the world (according to both Ben and Ahsoka). Besides, Padme is not stupid. She _knows_. And, she enjoys tormenting me. That's the only explanation.

"Not a chance," she retorts in a soft, silvery voice. "This is a serious competition, Anakin. I intend to win."

I rumble a chuckle low in the back of my throat. She's feisty. I _love_ it. "Are you willing to wager a bet on that, Padme?"

Her eyebrow lifts again in that classic way of hers as she absorbs my offer. "Terms?"

"Loser buys coffee afterwards."

She nods firmly and holds out her hand, like she's conducting a business transaction and not a silly bet for a game of mini golf. I just _adore_ how serious her expression is right now, as though it's a life or death situation. She's as competitive as I am. Ben was right…I really _have_ met my match. And, it's _exhilarating_.

I shake her hand. "Deal."

Eventually, the teenage lovebirds finally finish the first hole and giggle over to the second, so Padme and I set up. I let Padme go first, because my mother tried her best to raise me to be a gentleman, but as Padme bends over and places her golf ball on the ground between the markers, I realize that maybe the whole _ladies first_ thing is just a way for men to ogle a girl from behind and not be thought of as creeps. Which is _exactly_ what I'm doing, and, frankly, I'm enjoying the view immensely.

I mean, it's not like she makes it easy for me _not_ to stare at her ass, because she's right in front of me. And, _fuck_ does she have a **great** ass! Way better than Aayla's, which is saying something. Clearly, she works out, because it's tight and round and firm, the _perfect_ peach shape, and the way her back is sloped makes me bite down on my lip _hard_ , trying to suppress a moan of longing. Instantaneously, _all_ I can think about is gripping her sensually curved hips and slamming into her from behind, and I swear it takes **all** my fucking willpower _not_ to bust a nut in my pants at the thought.

When I first saw her, I thought she was an angel, but _now,_ I'm convinced she's the devil himself, because now she's shifting her hips from side to side, practically _wiggling_ her sweet ass at me. It does _nothing_ to abate the dirty thoughts currently whizzing through my mind. I know I really should feel guilty about thinking such disgusting things about her, but I can't help it. I _want_ her, and she's driving me crazy.

And, it's not just her ass that has captured my attention, either. It's the _way_ she's holding the putter. The way she's gripping it and running her small fist up and down the shaft makes me squirm where I stand. It's an innocent enough action, of course...Well, at least, I _think_ she's being innocent, as she tests the most comfortable way to hold it, but to **me** , dirty-minded fucker that I am, _all_ I can think about is her hands on me _,_ on my dick, pumping me slowly with her small, warm fist, and I literally can't stop the muffled groan that slips past my lips at the sinfully _delicious_ thought.

Padme twists her head at the sound to glance over her shoulder at me, winks, then brings her arm back and swings. The little minx. She knows _exactly_ what she's doing, alright. In response, I give her my _best_ predatory stare, one I know from experience can make a girl drop her panties in about five seconds flat. Unlucky for me, there's no panty dropping, but she does flush furiously and quickly averts her gaze, which is basically the same thing when it comes to the prim and proper Padme Naberrie.

She finishes the hole on par and then stands at the end of the course, hand on her cocked hip and the other holding her putter. Her pose screams of challenge, as though she's _daring_ me to do better than her, to beat her score. Flashing her a quick wink, I line my putter up with the ball and swing.

Hole in one.

 _Fuck yes!_

I actually can't believe it. Like, what? I couldn't even _see_ the fucking hole! Padme is just as shocked as I am, blinking at me with her mouth wide open. Grinning, I punch my fist in the air and whoop like an idiot, making her roll her eyes at me as I walk up to her and retrieve my golf ball.

"Lucky shot," she mutters under her breath.

I stand up, grinning smugly, and approach her, standing so close to her that our bodies are practically touching. The proximity makes my heart thump wildly in my chest as I smirk down at her. "You're just _jealous_ , Naberrie. I told you I would bring my A-game," I whisper softly. She meets my glare stubbornly, and the electricity almost _sizzles_ in the air between us, making the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. I feel hot and flustered all of a sudden, and I want to kiss her _so_ fucking badly I almost can't stand it. It's _all_ I can think about. My eyes drift over her full, luscious lips, slick with a pale pink gloss that is so _inviting_ , so _tempting_ …I want to know what it tastes like, what it feels like against my own. The way she's blinking up at me, like she's waiting for something, makes me wonder if _she_ wants to kiss me, too. I fucking hope so. Again, her little tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I swallow, mesmerized by her mouth.

Somehow my face is inching closer to hers, though I don't remember actually moving, and I'm _so_ close to her, I can feel her moist minty-fresh breath ghosting over my lips. My eyes don't leave hers, and _hers_ don't leave my mouth.

 _Just_ as I'm about to seal the deal, some guy back at the starting point starts yelling at us to move. We both jump apart and blink at each other, jolting back to reality, and Padme blushes so goddamn prettily that I feel compelled to seize her in my arms and kiss her senseless. I grumble in annoyance at our moment being interrupted and scowl down at the impatient asshole who ruined it. Really, I'm half tempted to go down there and punch him in the face, because I was so fucking _close_ , dammit! It was right there...I mean, she left it _wide_ _open_ for me, and now the opportunity is gone, and I don't know _when_ it will return, because I'd caught her off guard with that one, and _now_ , she'll be prepared for it.

 _Fuck._

Padme nods her head, shyly, drifts her eyes to the ground and mutters, "Let's go," but just before she walks away, I can't resist resting my hand chastely on the dip of her waist and bending to kiss her infinitely soft cheek again. It's not the same as kissing her lips (which I remember are a million times softer and sweeter), but it still sends tingles shooting up my spine and my arm from the contact. Honestly, I'm _amazed_ that this exquisite creature even lets me anywhere _near_ her, let alone kiss her cheek, and I'm going to make the most of _every_ opportunity presented until she gets sick of me. She beams brightly up at me, and the way her eyes are wide and shining informs me she's surprised but _pleased_ by my actions, and it makes me grin stupidly, like some sort of lovesick fool. Which, I suppose, is what I am.

 _Pathetic._ But _,_ I'm _not_ complaining _._

We move about the course slowly, taking our time and enjoying being together in the fall sunshine, and my winning streak soon dwindles down to nothing. Whilst Padme never scores a hole-in-one herself, she's extremely consistent, whereas I'm all over the place. One hole I'll be one under par, and then the next, I'll be a triple bogie. It's almost indicative of our personalities; _she_ is well put together and straight forward, and _I'm_ a chaotic mess. Somehow, though, it works. _We_ work. We _balance_ each other out.

Obviously, her practice game on _Wii Golf_ with her nieces has paid off.

As the afternoon draws on, I realize more and more just how perfectly suited we are for each other. We really seem to _get_ each other. She's fucking hilarious; though, I don't think she actually _realizes_ it. Maybe no one's ever told her she's funny before, but I personally find her dry, witty humour _so_ amusing...honestly, she's as sarcastic as I am, which _really_ turns me on, and she challenges me in a way no one else _ever_ has. She gives as good as she gets. It's so fucking attractive.

I don't think I'd ever need sex _again_ , if I could just partake in this ongoing witty, acerbic, innuendo-filled banter with her for the rest of my life. It's intoxicating, captivating _,_ titillating _,_ and completely and utterly _addictive_ , and it only makes me fall deeper and _harder_ for her.

I suddenly never want this date to end.

Just as Padme overtakes me on the scorecard, she hits her ball into the water. I burst out laughing at the adorable fucking pout on her face, which only makes her scowl at me, doing that eyebrow thing again. "I'm glad you find amusement in my misfortune, Anakin," she huffs prettily, crossing her arms, a slight blush on her cheeks.

So, I do the gentlemanly thing and scoop it out for her, then use the bottom of my sweater to polish and dry it before handing it back to her in a gallant gesture. I bow low in front of her, holding it out and whisper, "Your golf ball, _milady_ ," and she softens up, giggling, before taking it from me and kissing me sweetly on the cheek.

"My _hero_ ," she purrs seductively in my ear and… _yep_ …I'm hard.

Great. Just what I _don_ ' _t_ need.

Trying not to draw her attention to my… _situation_ , I run my hand through my hair and blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind, just as she bends down in front of me again and her delectable ass is presented before me, once more, making me even _harder._.."Do you work out?"

She stands up and glances over her shoulder at me, confusion written clearly on her face. "Excuse me?" I don't really blame her, because I did kind of shout it at her, but I couldn't help it. Normally, I'm a lot smoother than this, but she makes me feel like a bumbling teenager.

Rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly, I try to redeem myself, feeling like I did the first time I met her in the club three weeks ago… _out of my depth_. "Uh… well, you're kinda… _fit_ looking, so I just – I mean, I assumed that you – "

"Yes," she laughs, shaking her head at me as though she finds my embarrassing stuttering cute or something. "I swim. And, go to yoga class three times a week. And…"

I literally tune out as soon as she says the word _yoga._ Holy fucking shit, that's **hot!** She does _yoga?! Fuck!_ Sex with her would be fucking _incredible!_ It's _all_ I can think about now, and my mind is suddenly consumed with imagining her body contorted in various different positions for me and such thoughts only _enhance_ my throbbing erection in my jeans. After this date, I'm gonna need a _seriously_ cold shower. I have to bite my lip again to avoid another aroused groan slipping out of my mouth.

"… And, I play tennis, too." I blink my eyes rapidly, as I realize she's still talking to me, and I wasn't even paying attention. She doesn't seem to notice though, as she continues enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up, making her look even more beautiful than before, if that's at all possible. "I was quite good when I was a little girl, but I gave it up to concentrate on my studies. Dad and I still play occasionally, though. Especially when we go to our holiday house in the Hamptons. It's a family tradition; my sister and her husband, Darred, versus Dad and I. We're the reigning champions three years in a row!" She concludes her little speech with a proud nod of her head, then looks directly at me, waiting for me to respond.

"Tennis, huh?" I don't know the first thing about tennis, really. The only time I ever watch it on T.V. is when Maria Sharapova is playing because of…well, _obvious_ reasons.

Padme nods her head and beams. "Do you play?"

Shrugging my shoulders casually, I shake my head. "Nah. Not a sport I ever got into as a kid." It's one of those upper middle class sports that my mother couldn't afford to pay for, but I decide to keep that to myself. I stuck to more accessible activities in school, like cross country, and then when I was in high-school, I was on the school basketball team. I was pretty good and could've gone far, but, like Padme (though I _never_ actually reveal this to anyone), I decided to devote more of my time to my studies come my senior year, and it paid off, as I received a full scholarship to Columbia.

"I could teach you," she offers brightly. Then, suddenly shy again, she adds, "Maybe, one day, I'll take you up there. To my house in the Hamptons. I mean...If you want."

Her suggestion _astounds_ me. She wants to take me to her family home in the Hamptons?! _One day._ Does that mean she wants to be _serious_ with me? Something more long term, more concrete, more _exclusive_ than just casual dating? The slim chance of that being the case has me more excited than a kid at Christmas. "R-really?" I stammer pathetically, unable to keep the tremor of delight out of my voice, and I decide I don't really care. It should be pretty obvious by now how much I like her. She _knows._

"Sure, why not," she replies with a warm smile. "I've always been allowed to take people up there." It's meant to be a reassuring comment, but I feel a strong surge of jealousy at the thought of her taking another _man,_ of her taking _Clovis,_ up there, of him staying with her, playing tennis with her, watching her as she sunbathes in a bikini by the pool, and I grit my teeth, trying to contain it. The _only_ man I want her taking up there from now on is _me,_ and I'm gonna make damn sure it _stays_ that way. Permanently. "It's beautiful there. You'd really like it."

 _I really like_ _ **you**_ , I want to say to her, but even in my head, it sounds corny, so I decide for something a little less pathetic. "I don't know if I'd be much of a match for you and your father, though," I tell her with a smile. "I'm pretty bad at tennis."

"Well, what sports _do_ you play, then?" she asks, grinning at me. "Obviously, you work out. I mean, you're kind of _fit_ looking." The way she says it, accompanied by that teasing little smirk of hers, makes me realize she's mocking me. _Again._ She's using my own words against me. _Fuck_ , this woman is incredible. I _can_ ' _t_ get enough of her. I want her to tease me and mock me every day for the rest of my life.

Flashing her an arrogant grin, I puff my chest out just a little and respond, "I ran cross-country and used to play basketball in high-school. I was pretty good at it, actually."

"Why did you stop?" she asks out of genuine curiosity. Like she's actually interested in me and my life. And, that's a fucking first.

I hesitate. Despite my reputation, I'm actually a pretty private guy. Hardly _anyone_ actually knows the real _me,_ or anything about my life. I like to keep it that way, too. It keeps myself, and the ones I love, safe. Almost never do I ever reveal _anything_ about my past, or my life's ambitions, but with Padme, I feel… _safe_ …I'm willing to divulge everything about myself to her. Open up. Let her in. It's a new concept for me and scary as fuck, but I also kind of _like_ this feeling.

Inhaling deeply, I give her a small smile and a half shrug of my shoulder. "I needed a full scholarship if I wanted to go to Columbia to pursue mechanical engineering, 'cause Mom and I couldn't afford the tuition otherwise. So, I gave it up to concentrate on my studies in my senior year."

It's then we realize we _both_ have that in common – giving up something we love to concentrate on getting into college. One of the main reasons I never tell anyone about how much Mom actually struggled to raise me is because I can't fucking _stand_ being pitied. She had to work two jobs just to afford to live, and I basically started working as soon as it was legal for me to do so to help her out. We did what we had to do to survive. We scraped by, and there's _nothing_ wrong with that. I don't need pity. Thankfully, Padme doesn't give it to me. Instead, she smiles at me, a pretty, genuine smile, one that warms me from the inside out.

"You're constantly surprising me, Anakin Skywalker," she says, softly. "You're not the guy I first thought you were."

I grin. "And, who was _that_ , exactly?"

She gives me a pointed look with _both_ eyebrows raised this time. "An arrogant playboy who relies on his good looks to get him places," she responds immediately, as though it's not even a difficult question to answer. It _should_ insult me, but it just makes me laugh. Because, really, that's basically how I am…well, on the _outside_ anyway.

Raising my eyebrow, I cross my arms over my chest and smirk at her. "And, _now?"_

Her eyes scan me up and down appraisingly, piercing my very soul, and I feel so vulnerable, so _bare_ to her gaze as she scrutinizes me. "I'm not _sure_ ," she replies slowly, honestly, a little smile on her face. "But, I want to find out."

I wink at her. " _That_ can easily be arranged," I quip, and she rolls her eyes at me.

"You're still arrogant, though," she informs me with a smirk, but the way she's grinning and trying to contain her laughter is proof enough that she really _likes_ me. It's hard to contain my excitement at that. _Yes!_

"It's all part of my charm, Padme," I tease, then set up my shot at the 18th hole. I finish on par, which I feel is a pretty good achievement, and then quickly count up our scores in my head.

I've won.

Unable to help myself, I burst out laughing and start cheering like an idiot, and Padme just cocks her head at my in confusion. "I _won!_ Told you I brought my A-game!" I tell her smugly, amused by the defeated frown on her face, and I shove the scorecard into her hands, because by _no_ _means_ am I a gracious winner. Her dark eyes flit down the scorecard quickly, as though she needs to count for herself to make sure I'm not lying, which amuses me to no end. Then, she grumbles under her breath and nods her head, handing it back to me.

"It's only by _one_ point," she reminds me in a matter-of-fact tone, with a roll of her eyes.

I shrug. "So? I still _won_. Which means, Naberrie, _you_ have to buy me coffee." My grin is a mile wide, and she shakes her head at me.

"You're more excited about _that_ than actually winning, aren't you?" she raises her eyebrow again, and my grin turns wolfish, as I am caught red handed, and I nod my head vigorously. Shaking her head, she sighs, "Well, come on. Let's go. There's a Starbucks not far from here." Then, _she_ reaches down, takes my hand in hers, twining our fingers together, and we walk back to the pro shop, hand back our golf balls and putters, and then walk, hand-in-hand, to Starbucks.

The sun has just started to dip behind the horizon, and it's gotten a little cooler, as the wind has picked up just a bit, and Padme shivers beside me. Without even asking her, I shrug off my jacket, regardless of how the wind bites through my own sweater and white undershirt, and drape it around her slender shoulders. She makes this adorable little sound of surprise and blinks up at me, and I just smile at her and nod my head. It _was_ the gentlemanly thing to do after all. In response, she squeezes my hand a little tighter and mouths _Thank you_ to me, and I'm over the fucking moon.

When we go inside, Padme pulls out her credit card from her purse and goes up to the line, and I make my way over to a booth near the window. "Remember, I want a – "

" – I know, I know," she calls back with a bemused smile. "Grande long black, no sugar, no flavour, no _whipped cream,_ and no fun. I've got it." She rolls her eyes at me. "You and your _simple needs."_ I burst out laughing. I can't help it. She's _so_ adorable when she's mocking me.

I keep grinning, so fucking ecstatic that she remembered how I like my coffee. She returns a few minutes later, tucking her credit card back in her wallet purse and sitting down opposite me, and I reach across the table to take her hand again, lacing her fingers with mine, enjoying the feel of her silken skin under the gentle stroke of my thumb. It's such a familiar action now, I don't even feel awkward doing it. It just feels _natural_ to hold her hand. Neither does she feel awkward, it seems, as she lets me, beaming shyly at me from across the table. I love how she can go from confident and sassy to shy and innocent in a matter of seconds, just from something I do. I'm not actually sure which I prefer… _both_ are so fucking sexy.

The silence between us is comfortable, considering that we haven't stopped talking all afternoon. I appreciate this quiet moment between us, not because I don't enjoy talking to her, but because I just want to take the time to truly _admire_ her. Really, she's _so_ beautiful. The most _stunning_ woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Maybe it's her gorgeous soul that makes her even more beautiful to me, a beacon of light, an _angel_. Either way, she is the definition of perfection in my eyes. She _personifies_ it _._ I'm _never_ going to let her slip away from me… ** _never_** _._ Not if I can help it. She will be _mine_.

Our coffees arrive, and Padme eyes mine with suspicion. "I don't know _how_ you can drink that," she screws up her nose in that adorable way of hers, and, for probably the thousandth time this afternoon, I want to kiss her.

"I don't know how you can drink _that?_ " I quip back, smirking as I incline my head towards her overly sugary, elaborate beverage, topped with all that whipped cream she seems to love so much. "That's like, diabetes in a glass." I shake my head, my own nose scrunched up in disgust.

She scoffs at me. "It's _delicious._ Here, try some." She pushes her glass towards me, holding her straw out to me, and I realize it's one of those moments where I _could_ be cute and share her drink with her like in some 1950's rom com, but the thought of all that sugar all but gives me cavities, and I mock shudder, holding up my hands in protest.

"Keep that sugar monstrosity to yourself!"

Silvery laughter bubbles from her perfect lips, and she responds by sipping through her straw slowly, keeping her twinkling eyes on me the whole time. I'm mesmerised by her and physically have to _force_ myself to look away before she thinks I'm weird for staring at her so much. Or, before I get _another_ hard on from watching her licking off all that whipped cream again.

"Have you started tutoring yet?" she asks me suddenly.

"Tomorrow."

Her eyes widen excitedly, and she smiles broadly at me. "Oh, that's _exciting_ , Anakin!"

Smiling at her enthusiasm, I nod my head slowly. "Yeah. His name's Jake, and he's thirteen. I'm supposed to help him with math…" My voice trails off. It's the first time I've _really_ thought about it, this whole tutoring thing. I'm actually kinda nervous. What if I'm absolutely awful at it? What if the kid doesn't like me? What if I don't help him at all?

Padme senses my unease somehow and peers at me curiously, concern swimming in her beautiful brown eyes. "What's wrong?"

I rub the back of my neck. "I just…I don't know how good I'm gonna be at this," I confess weakly.

She takes my hand again and squeezes my fingers tightly. "You'll do great! Don't beat yourself up so much. I mean...you're an _engineering_ student, Anakin. You're on the _Dean's List_ , for crying out loud! Math comes as natural to you as...as _breathing!_ Honestly, you'll be fine. Try not to worry and just _relax."_ Her praise is both comforting and encouraging. I can't believe she thinks so highly of me.

"Thanks," I say with a smile, grateful for her encouragement. "But, just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'll make a good teacher. How do _you_ do it?"

She sits back and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. "Well, it's always good to take an interest in them. To try and relate to them, in some way. To try and find a common interest with them...like computer games or sports or music...something, _anything_. Kids _really_ respond to that – they like to know that they're being heard. Try to form a connection with them… be engaging, I suppose. That should be pretty easy for you, though," she smiles at me, "you're sarcastic and quick witted and have a dry sense of humour and..." her voice trails off as she blushes, and I grin at her praise.

"Are you saying that I'm funny?"

She hesitates for a second, contemplating whether or not she wants to actually admit that she enjoys my humour, then smirks. "I'm _saying_ that you're easy to talk to, and that kids will feel comfortable around you." Then, because she enjoys taunting me, she adds with a sly grin, "Plus, you're basically just a big kid yourself, so it should be no problem for you."

I sip my coffee slowly, keeping my eyes on her. "You don't seem to mind that, though." Leaning forward, I drop my voice to a husky, deep, sensuous timbre, one I _know_ makes her shiver and whisper, "In fact, I think you _like_ that about me, Padme. Everything in your life is so serious, so structured…you want...no, you _crave,_ excitement, adventure… _challenge._ And, I am _all_ of those things. You find me _fascinating_."

Her eyes widen at my observation, and she bites her pretty, full bottom lip and swallows, and inside, I am _cheering,_ because I _know_ I'm right. I've read her _so_ easily, and she's shocked that she hasn't hidden it as well as she thought she had. I'm an anomaly to her… and she wants to unravel me. I can _see_ it in her eyes, _sense_ it in the way she acts around me. I'm _intriguing_ to her, and she's such a curious little thing. She _has_ to find out. I'm both aroused _and_ amused by this.

Padme doesn't respond, but she doesn't have to. I _know_ that I'm right. I know it, and she knows _I know_ it. She's just too stubborn to admit it.

We finish our coffees in silence, just watching each other, but, it's not awkward. The air is throbbing with the electric tension between us, and it does absolutely nothing to quell the _ache_ I feel for her. I _need_ her, and not just physically, though my dick makes _that_ particular need pretty damn obvious. I also need her _soul_ ; she's so pure and sweet and light, and I feed off her energy. She's a brilliant ray of sunshine in my otherwise mundane, bleak existence, and I find, the _more_ I spend time with her, the greater my _need_ for her grows. I _love_ the way she makes me feel, the man she makes me want to _be_. The hope that shines in her eyes makes me feel like anything and everything is truly possible, an optimism I've never really believed in, because life is _not_ fair, and dreams _don_ ' _t_ come true, no matter how good of a person you are. But, Padme believes in it, in _something,_ in a bigger picture. She even believes in _me_. No one else has _ever_ believed in me before, except my mother.

It's just after six when we finish our coffee and decide to go get some pizza, because we're both kind of hungry after a long afternoon outdoors. The wind has picked up even more when we leave Starbucks, and even though Padme says she's fine, I insist that she wears my jacket, despite the fact that my teeth are literally chattering together from my shivering. I'm _trying_ to be a gentleman, here. We hurry inside _Patsy_ _'_ _s Pizzeria_ to escape the bitter chill and order a medium pepperoni pizza to share – Padme's suggestion, because I am quite capable of eating an entire family size all on my own, but I decide to accommodate her wishes. We split the bill, even though both of us insist on paying, and come to a somewhat agreeable compromise with each paying half, then slide into a booth next to each other, Padme sliding in first.

Her knees brush up against mine as we eat, and _every_ time, I feel a jolt of pure pleasure roll up my thigh and go straight to my groin, which makes me shift uncomfortably in my seat. She's almost snuggling into my side, seeking out my warmth, and I let her, relishing in the feeling of her smooth, supple, jean-clad thigh resting against my own more muscled one, and the way her arm brushes against mine each time she reaches for a slice of pizza sends electric shocks through me.

Even eating _pizza_ , she still manages to look elegant and refined, like a Queen or something, and I'm incredibly impressed. She takes these _dainty_ little bites, but in _no_ _way_ does that mean she has a small appetite – when it comes down to the last slice, she eyes it so ravenously that I ignore my protesting stomach and let her have it. In return, she beams brightly at me, and it makes my stomach flutter and quiver nervously. I settle back in the booth, take a sip of my Coke, and drape my left arm around her slender shoulders, resting my fingers on her forearm, and she nuzzles into my relaxed embrace with a soft, contented sigh that leaves me positively _giddy_ with happiness.

This has been, without a doubt, the **best** fucking day of my _entire_ life.

Padme suddenly yawns adorably beside me, and I realize that it's almost seven thirty, and we should probably head home. I insist that we share a cab home, and drop her off first, even though she argues with me because she's stubborn. She gives me her address, and I add it to her contact info in my phone. The entire ride to her apartment, she rests her head on my shoulder and keeps hold of my hand, pulling it gently across her lap like she's been doing it for years. My thumb traces delicate patterns over the silken skin of her knuckles. Her skin is _so_ soft and smooth. I want to feel it under my lips, I want to _worship_ every inch of her with my fingers and my tongue and my mouth. I want to kiss her _all_ over her delectable body, and bring her pleasure such as she's _never_ felt before, until she's calling out my name in breathy, feminine gasps. The mere _thought_ of her gloriously naked and writhing beneath me in ecstasy has me harder than steel, my dick pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of my straining jeans, and I'm so fucking glad that it's dark right now.

The taxi pulls up outside her apartment, and we both get out and walk up her front steps. It's a pretty place, even from the outside, with an ornate railing that lines the stairs, entwined with bougainvillea, whose leaves have turned burnt orange in the fall. As we ascend to her front door, I keep my hand resting gently on the small of her back, even while she fumbles for her keys in her little shoulder bag. Just as she pulls them out and opens her door, she pauses and turns to face me. Even in the dim glow of the streetlight, I can see the delicate pink blush that rushes to her porcelain cheeks, and I swallow thickly.

"Well," she breaks the silent first, and is it just me, or does she sound nervous? "This was really nice, Anakin. I had _such_ a great time. Thank you."

I rub the back of my neck and nod my head. "Yeah. Me…me, too."

We stand there, on her doorstep in complete silence, and I realize that _this_ is the moment. This is the opportunity. I _have_ to kiss her. But, I just…I _can_ _'_ _t._ I can't move, I can't think. My feet are rooted to the spot, and my brain has decided to disconnect from my body and ceases all functioning.

With a little disappointed sigh, Padme gives me a weak smile and mutters, "Well, I'll see you around sometime, then."

Just as she goes to step inside, I suddenly wake up from my coma and grip her arm with my hand. "Padme, wait!" She turns back to me, and without even thinking, I slide my hand up her arm to cup the back of her neck, take a step closer to her, and press my lips against hers. The little groan of surprise she gives makes me smile, and I gently kiss her lips, pressing soft little kisses to her mouth, tasting her pink lip gloss and feeling the smooth slide of her luscious lips against mine. It sends shock waves of intense pleasure right through my _entire_ body.

Seconds later, she _responds,_ resting both of her hands on my broad shoulders and opens her mouth up to me, letting me slip my tongue inside and plunder the soft, sweet depths of her mouth. My other hand curls around her hip and pulls her flush against me, our bodies pressed intimately against each other as our tongues twine together in an unfamiliar yet incredibly beautiful dance that leaves me feeling weak in the knees and lighter than air.

She tastes fucking _incredible_. Like nothing else I've _ever_ tasted before. I want _more._

The last time I kissed her like this, I was drunk and so was she, and my senses were blurred by alcohol. But now… _fucking hell_. I never knew _kissing_ could get me _so_ worked up like _this!_ Every drugging slide of her soft tongue against mine makes me throb in my jeans, and our proximity means she's _fully_ aware of how _hard_ I am for her, of what she _does_ to me. And, to my utter delight, she's not embarrassed, or even disgusted by it. If anything, she _likes it_ , for she sighs happily into my mouth and slides her fingers from my shoulders, up my neck, to fist in hunks of my hair, pulling me to her lips more forcefully. Then, it hits me.

 _She_ _ **needs**_ _me, too._

I affect _her_ just as much as she affects _me_ , and that knowledge almost makes me spill myself in my underwear right there. I can't help but wonder if she's as wet for me as I am hard for her, and fuck, do I _want_ to find out. I could do it, too, so _easily._ I could fumble with the zipper of her jeans and delve my long fingers inside, down her feminine folds, seeking out her wet warmth, but the rational part of my brain tells me to let it slide. This is only our third official date. I don't want to push my luck with her and go too fast. The _last_ thing I want is to scare her away. I _can't_ rush this, because she deserves _more_ , and I'm willing to wait for as long as I need to.

So, ignoring _all_ my body's protests, I break the kiss, pulling back just enough to rest my forehead against hers and peer deeply into her eyes. Her face is flushed, her lips are swollen, her chest is heaving from the intensity of our kiss, and _never_ has she looked more beautiful, more _desirable_ than right now. She's _perfect._ I bring my hand up to her cheek, caressing her skin with my thumb and close my eyes.

"I've been wanting to do that **all** goddamn day," I confess breathlessly, and she giggles softly, clasping her hands around my neck, remaining in my embrace.

"I'm glad you finally did," she whispers back.

Groaning, I can't resist kissing her again, nibbling on her luscious lips once more. "When can I see you again?" I mumble into her mouth.

She just blinks at me coyly underneath heavy eyelashes and smiles, " _Soon_ ," teasing me, and then steps out of my arms. "Goodnight, Anakin. Call me later?"

I grin at her like an idiot, unable to contain my happiness, and nod my head vigorously. "Definitely. Goodnight, Padme."

With one last look at me over her shoulder, she steps inside and closes her front door, and I'm left on her doorstep, grinning like I just won the lottery.

Then, I start to laugh… giddy, euphoric laughter and run a hand through my hair, which is already mussed up from Padme's hands.

If _this_ is what love feels like, then I _never_ want it to end. Ever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Another update pour vous! This actually took me forever to write but I think it's worth it... I hope. It's a very long chapter :) Thank you for all the support so far with this story. I'm sorry my updates are taking so long - I'm swamped with university assessment right now and it's only week 3 *help me*. Hope you enjoy! Xx

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"Ugh, _fuck_ ," I curse under my breath, head tipped back as water rains down my face. I can't _believe_ it's come to this – me, jacking off in the shower while Ahsoka's at work (so that she can't hear me), but I can't help it. Ever since yesterday, when I _finally_ kissed Padme properly, I've been so tightly wound up that I _swear_ I was getting blue balls, and without being able to have Padme in my bed to satisfy my very real, and almost painful, _need_ forher...the only way to cure it is to resort to…well, _this_. I'm not new to it, fuck no...I mean, I've been jerking off since I was old enough to know why my dick would get hard. It doesn't mean I'm _proud_ of myself for it, though.

But, I just have to think of _her_ , of Padme…her divine floral scent, her beautiful chocolate eyes, her soft chestnut curls, her tinkling laughter, her _perfect_ feminineshape, and of the way her lips felt against mine, the way her soft tongue danced so intimately with my own in her mouth, the way her body fit so _perfectly_ against me as I held her tightly in my arms, as if she was _created_ just for me alone, and that delightful little groan she made…

…And _fuck,_ suddenlyI'm coming, hard and fast, painting the wall of my shower as I thrust my hips forward, jerking my hard, throbbing dick with my fist, imagining, instead, that I'm between Padme's supple thighs, slamming into her tight wet heat over and over, with her legs wrapped tightly around around my hips, feeling her own spasms of ecstasy fluttering madly around my pulsing shaft. My legs shake with fine tremors, as I groan out her name loudly, my voice strangled and hoarse from the exertion, and I'm thankful as _fuck_ that Ahsoka's not here right now. Once I'm done, I release my now limp cock from my fist, and I slump my head forward, leaning my forehead on my forearm lying against the shower wall, my breath ragged and heavy, feeling the welcome heat of the hot water cascading across my bare back and shoulders.

Man, I _really_ fucking needed that.

It's only after the final waves of pleasure have rolled over my body and I'm brought back to reality, that I feel guilty. It's so _shameful_ that I just did that. It's _dirty_. It's _wrong_. Padme is _so_ much more to me than just a sex object, something I use to just get myself off for my _own_ pleasure. She's beyond _amazing_ ; the single most wonderful, inspiring, compassionate, selfless person I've _ever_ met in my entire life, and doing what I've just done, thinking about _her_ like that, is downright disgusting.

But, I can't _help_ it. I want her, _all_ of her, so fucking badly, every day for the rest of my life, and I know I promised myself I'd wait as long as it takes to have her as my own, but honestly, I don't know how much longer I can take this torture.

And, it _is_ torture, to hunger and thirst for her like this. I groan as an image of Padme joining me in my shower floods my mind, and then I'm imagining myself lathering her silken skin with body wash, her back flush against my chest, her head resting back against my shoulder, cupping her perfect breasts in my hands, flicking her nipples with my thumbs, feeling the rounded perfection of her ass rubbing gently against my groin... _Fuck._ My dick twitches just a little at the thought and I reach down and give it a tight, _painful_ squeeze. I reallyneed to stop thinking about her like this, or I'll never make it to tutoring on time.

 _Think of something else,_ my brain screams at me, and so I force myself to remember that one time Ahsoka walked in on me talking to Padme on the phone, and it works like magic. Instantly, those small, hot tendrils of arousal are completely gone, and I'm free to finish my shower in peace, washing away the evidence of my lust and cleaning myself up.

As I drag a hand through my wet hair, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with an unusual sense of anxiety. I'm actually really nervous about tutoring today. As much as I appreciate Padme's faith in me, I'm far more doubtful about my own abilities. Which, is uncommon, because – I'll admit it – I'm pretty arrogant about myself. But, this is different. It's not about _me._ It's about the kid, Jake, and his welfare and progress rests on _my_ shoulders. That's a hell of a responsibility for someone like me, and not something I take lightly.

Pulling myself together, because I can't be late to my first day, I step out of the shower, dry off, and quickly get dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, black t-shirt, my grey, Columbia hooded sweatshirt, and my black converses. I have to go back to campus, in one of the special rooms in the student centre, and while it's not _necessary_ to wear my college apparel, I want to set a good first impression. Besides, Padme gave me that tip – apparently, the professors really like it – and I'm _not_ going to waste her advice.

Before I rush out the door, I leave a list on the kitchen counter of things I want Ahsoka to pick up from the grocery store today, as well as some money, then head out of the apartment to catch a cab. The traffic is pretty light, for a Monday afternoon, and I arrive on campus almost twenty minutes early. So, I quickly go to grab a coffee from a nearby cart first. It's then I hear a familiar voice shouting out my name, and I cringe. _Fuck._

"Skywalker!"

At first, I pretend not to hear it, as I go to pay for my long black and hand over the money, but it soon becomes _too_ persistent to ignore. With a sigh, I turn around to see Rex striding towards me, a wide, smug grin on his face.

"Hey, man," I greet him casually, as though it's perfectly normal for me to be on campus on a Monday afternoon – even though our class ended at midday.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, getting straight to the point as usual.

I raise my eyebrows and counter his question with one of my own. "Could ask you the same thing."

Rex laughs, a deep, loud laughter and raises one of his thick, black eyebrows at me, smirking at me. "Mate, I _live_ on campus, remember?"

Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about that. Well, fuck, there goes my cover. "Right," I nod my head.

"So, are you gonna keep dodging the question, or are you gonna tell me why you're here?"

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair, realizing the jig is up. "I'm…ah… I'm tutoring. A kid. In math."

He stares at me for like a minute, eyes wide, shock and confusion written all over his face, before he bursts out into near hysterical laughter, almost doubling over, and I frown down at him. " _You? Tutor?_ Fuck, that poor kid's got no hope, mate! Since when have _you_ ever wanted to tutor?!

I stutter and shift awkwardly on the spot, not wanting to tell him the real reason. Padme is still a secret, and I want to keep it that way for just a bit longer. Besides, if Rex found out that I'm only doing shit like this to impress her, I'd never hear the end of it. "Uh… well, y'know – I'm on the Dean's list and… er – "

He clearly doesn't buy any of it. "This has to do with that mystery girl you keep texting, doesn't it?" he asks slyly, eyes full of mischief and voice lit with amusement. "You're trying to _impress_ her. Come on, admit it. I _know_ you are, mate."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I snap, frowning, but it's a pathetic attempt at denial.

Rex just puffs out his chest, shoves his hands in his pockets, and whistles with a shake of his head. "Skywalker, I'm impressed, mate. The _lengths_ you go to for a shag. She's some bookish girl, isn't she? An intellectual, I'd reckon. She'd _have_ to be; she's smart enough to make _you_ work for it."

"Rex…" I growl through gritted teeth, because he's _almost_ right on the money. " _Fuck off._ "

He just grins, like the insolent jerk he is, and slaps me on the shoulder. "Well, good luck with the kid," he teases. "I seriously hope _she's_ worth it."

As he turns and walks away, a small satisfied smile curls my lips. _Yes,_ I think to myself. _She most definitely is._

When my coffee is ready, I take it, and I slowly make my way over to the student centre and sign in on the tutor's register at the front reception desk. The head of the tutoring program, Professor Shaak Ti, an Eastern European woman who enjoys wearing elaborate scarves over her dark hair, comes out to greet me. Her serene, cobalt eyes survey me quickly and I swallow nervously, before she nods her head and gives me a small smile.

"Anakin Skywalker?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come this way, please, Mr. Skywalker." She turns and glides down a corridor, and I quickly follow her, coming into stride beside her. She takes me into a room, third door down on the left. Inside is a woman in her forties, and her son, who I immediately assume to be Jake. The woman eyes me carefully as I enter with Professor Ti and sit down at the table opposite the pair of them. My palms are sweaty, and I bounce my knee idly, waiting for Professor Ti to introduce us.

"Hello, Ms. Fields. I am Professor Shaak Ti, head of the Community Impact program here at Columbia Univeristy. This is Anakin Skywalker – Mechanical Engineering student and Dean's List representative."

I incline my head towards the woman and give her my best smile, though it feels a little weak. _Why_ am I so nervous, dammit?

The woman, Samantha, as she insists on being called, greets us in turn and explains what her hopes are for the program. "Jakey has _so much_ potential," she says earnestly, twisting her hands together. "If only he would _apply_ himself. He just needs someone to _engage_ with him." As she says the words, her wide, hopeful eyes are trained on me, and I swallow. Hard. Well, _fuck._ The way she's looking at me, as though I'm the _last_ hope for her son, has my heart beating a thousand times faster against my ribcage. This is no joke. It's _so_ much more than just impressing Padme. I've got this poor mother's _dreams_ for her son resting in the palm of _my_ hand. I realize I can't slack off in this.

"We've tried home tutors," Samantha continues, though I can detect the hint of exasperation in her voice, "but nothing has seemed to work, so far. We never had this problem with Emma. I'm hoping that someone younger, closer to his age, perhaps, will be able to get through to him." The poor woman is almost in tears, as she desperately explains how her son is failing his classes, and that if he doesn't pick up his grades, he won't be able to get into college.

Something about her reminds me of my own mother. I can distinctly remember having a meeting with my high-school principle when I was a freshman about the exact same thing. _"Anakin has so much potential,"_ Headmaster Qui-Gon Jinn had told Mom. _"He's a smart kid, brilliant even. But, he needs to apply himself. If he doesn't start improving his marks_ _ **now**_ _, he'll lose his chances of getting into college."_ That night, when I'd gotten home, I'd found Mom crying in the living room, her head in her hands. She'd worked _so_ hard to give me the best life she could, all on her own, and here I was letting her down. It was that day that I'd smartened my act up and actually _given a shit_ …and now, I'm on the Dean's List. Maybe, I _could_ help this kid out. Maybe, I _am_ the right guy for the job.

With a genuine smile, I reach across and pat Samantha's hand gently. "Don't worry, Ms. Fields," I tell her. "We won't let you down...Right, Jake?" I look across at the boy, who's chewing on the inside of his lip, looking bored, and I think to myself, _Yeah, this is going to be a lot harder than I expected._

Samantha thanks me thoroughly, then she and Professor Ti leave the room. I glance across at Jake, weighing up the task ahead of me. He's a skinny kid, all gangly, awkward limbs and sharp angles, like he's hit puberty too early, but still has to grow into his body. There's a cluster of pimples across his forehead, though they're concealed by his messy brown hair that falls into his brown eyes.

"So, Jake," I start, casually, leaning back in my chair, crossing my right leg over my left knee and setting my coffee on the table in front of me, settling into an easy stance to make myself look less intimidating to the kid. "I'm Anakin. Nice to meet you."

He scowls across at me, arching up like any other thirteen-year-old boy with his pride on the line. "I'm _not_ stupid," he tells me instantly, his mouth full of braces making his words come out sort of slurry.

It's definitely _not_ the reaction I was hoping for, and I can't help but tilt my head to the side in confusion. "No one said you were stupid," I counter.

Crossing his arms over his narrow chest, he sinks lower into his seat. "They're all _thinking_ it. Only stupid kids need a tutor."

So, the kid's got some walls, but I'm determined to break them down. "Not what I hear. You're a bright kid, Jake. You just need to apply yourself." I try for the charm, flash him a confident smile, and all he does is roll his fucking eyes at me. Yeah. Tough doesn't _begin_ to cover this task. I'd actually forgotten what it's like dealing with teenagers. Ahsoka had been like this once (truthfully, she still kinda _is_ ), so I _should_ have been more prepared for this kind of attitude. A part of me laughs at my naivety.

But, before I can help him, I've got to get to the bottom of the _real_ issue here. I pick up his file on the table before us and peruse it quickly, to get a quick idea of what I'm dealing with. The kid is not only failing math, but English and Science as well. And, he's only in middle school! His report cards all say the same thing – _Jake has a lot of potential, but doesn't apply himself._ He's not stupid, _that_ I can tell straight away. So, what's the problem? Is he failing his classes on purpose? If so, _why?_

Cutting the crap, I get straight to the point. "If you're not stupid, then _why_ are you failing your classes?" I ask him, bluntly. There's no point being soft on this kid. "Are you doing it on purpose?"

"Who cares?" Is his snide remark, and I swear, I've _never_ wanted to slap a kid across the face until _this_ moment. This bravado act he's got going on – I _know_ it's an act – is something he's gonna have to get out of real quick, if I can help it. His mother is counting on me.

"Your mom sure does," I remind him, unable to help the sharpness of my tone. He blinks at me, unflinchingly. "And, you should, too. Why would you _want_ to fail your classes, Dude? Do you think it's cool to flunk out?" It's not necessarily the _best_ way to ask such a question, but it's all I can think of right now. I know what it's like to be peer-pressured, to feel obligated to act a certain way because of what other people think is _cool_ – if that's even the term kids his age are using these days.

Jake pouts sullenly, eyes narrowed into near-slits. He's obviously annoyed by my probing. _Good._ Maybe he'll smarten his act up if I can knock some sense into him.

I take it and run with it, continuing down that same train of thought. "Y'know, I used to think it was cool to not care about school when I was your age. But, when my Headmaster sat me down and told me straight up that I'd blow my chance of getting into college…of pursuing my _dreams_ if I didn't quit screwing around, I realized I needed to change. I mean, don't you have a _goal?_ "

His face is a straight deadpan. "No." God, this kid is giving me absolutely nothing. I've got my work cut out for me, no doubt about it.

I decide to just give up and get straight into tutoring, because I've only got an hour with this kid, and I don't want to waste it on deep philosophical shit like this. We start on basic algebra – that's what he's struggling with the most at the moment – which I know like the back of my hand. And, he's not wrong. He's actually pretty _smart._ He _gets_ it. Clearly, he just doesn't pay attention in class. I wonder if, maybe, he doesn't like the teacher, and that's why he's deliberately failing. Out of spite. Or, else there's something deeper at play here that I don't yet understand. I'm gonna find out though – any way I can help this kid, I will.

"So, tell me about yourself, Jake," I ask him as he works through the problems I've set for him.

He furrows his eyebrows and sticks out his tongue as he frantically scrawls down an answer after some vigorous calculations, then pauses and blinks over at me. " _Why?_ " It's not rude this time, more confused, like he can't understand why I'd _want_ to take an interest in him.

So, I flash him a kind smile and shrug my shoulders. "Well, I'm gonna be tutoring you for a whole term, so I might as well know _something_ about you." When he doesn't respond, I lean forward on my elbows, so that I'm closer to his level. "Tell you what. You tell me something about you, I tell you something about me. Deal?" I arch my eyebrows expectantly, hoping he'll take the bait.

He chews his lip as he ponders my suggestion, then his eyes soften a little, and he gives a little half-shrug of his head. "Alright."

"I'll go first," I offer. "My favourite basketball team is the _Knicks_."

Jake grins widely. "Me, too! Isn't everyone's?!"

Considering his spark of interest, I'm suddenly grateful for Padme's advice about finding a connection. She was right. At least, the kid likes basketball. I'm glad I can relate to him in _that_ sense. "Your turn," I urge with a grin of my own, leaning back in my seat to take a sip of my coffee before resting my arms casually behind my head.

"I've read _all_ the _Batman_ comics," he confesses, somewhat sheepishly, as though he's embarrassed by this, but I just give him another broad smile.

"Well, that's a relief," I jest. "I would've been disappointed in you if you'd only read one or two."

His eyes light up just a little. "You've read them, too?"

Scoffing, I nod my head. "Of course."

He gives me a proud nod of his head, which makes me laugh. I like this kid… a lot. He's got… _spunk._ I admire that. "Okay, your turn." He says, trying _not_ to sound eager.

"I've never left New York."

The way he looks at me is as though I've just confessed to hording a stash of pink stuffed animals in my bedroom. "You mean _never?!"_ he exclaims, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, completely blasphemed.

I chuckle and shrug my shoulders, nonchalantly. "Nope. Never."

"Wow, man. We went to Disneyland once," he tells me, and for the first time, I see his eyes alight with _pure joy,_ as a wide grin breaks out on his face. "It was amazing! We stayed in the resort, and it took us _five days_ to see everything! We spent an entire day in the Animal Kingdom, and I remember, my sister was too scared to go in with the tigers, but I wasn't scared at all, and I was only eight at the time and she was thirteen – but Emma's a big wuss. She's scared of _everything!_ Spiders, snakes, sharks, _everything!_ – and they let me on _all_ the rides, even though I was too small and – "

He rattles on and on for ages, his entire body is literally buzzing with enthusiasm, and it makes me smile. Seeing such happiness radiating from him – it reminds me of Ahsoka in a way. I feel… _something_ for this kid…a sense of endearment, perhaps? Maybe even something akin to affection. I don't know, but I suddenly feel like _I_ need this kid even more than he needs me.

"Sounds like a fun trip! You're pretty lucky, to have a great family that takes you on cool vacations like that."

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I know I've said the _wrong_ thing. Jake's face falls instantly, his eyes duck to stare at his lap, and if I look close enough, I can see _tears_ welling in his brown eyes. It makes my heart physically ache.

"Y-yeah…" the boy stutters and then sniffles. "We…uh...we don't do things like that anymore." Then, he just continues on with his algebra like nothing happened. I watch him curiously, wanting to know what's wrong, but I don't want to make him more upset.

"Why?" I ask softly.

He ignores me.

"Jake?"

Still nothing. Clearly, he's still hurting, and I decide not to push him. If he's anything like me (and really, he reminds me of myself a lot, if I'm being honest), then pushing him will only make him withdraw further into himself. If he wants to talk to me, he'll do it in his own time, I figure. Maybe I should talk to his mom at the end of the session, give myself some background information so I know what I'm _really_ dealing with here.

The session continues, and Jake seems to have a pretty good grip on the basics, though some of the trickier questions I set for him he struggles with, understandably so. As I'm helping him with an equation, he suddenly stops, and mutters, "My parents are divorced," very quietly under his breath. So softly, that I almost don't hear him.

"Oh." It's all I can say. Poor kid. No wonder he was so upset when he was remembering his trip to Disneyland. It was probably his last family vacation before his parents separated. I instantly feel guilty for bringing it up.

"I'm sorry, Jake," I say, as sincerely as possible.

The kid just shrugs, all miserable and forlorn, and for some reason, I want to give him a hug. Because, in this moment, he looks _exactly_ like Ahsoka did when her dad left. I remember that day clearly. She was young. Ten, maybe? And, she couldn't understand _why_ her father had abandoned her. I was a bit older by that point. And, I'd never even _known_ my father, so for me, it wasn't a big deal. But, Ahsoka had been crushed. I'll _never_ forget the look on her face – as though her entire world had crumbled right before her very eyes – for as long as I live.

"S'alright," he sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "It was a few years ago."

I nod my head, solemnly. "So, you live with your mom then?"

"Yeah. Emma's in college now, so she's moved out. So it's just me and Mom…and _Mark._ " The way he says that name, emphasis on the last letter, almost as though he's spitting venom, makes it obvious to me that he _doesn_ ' _t_ like his mother's new partner. I can totally get where that's coming from. It took me _years_ before I finally accepted Cliegg as my step-dad. At first, I was jealous, because it had just been me and Mom for ages, and now, there was this new person in our lives, taking up my mother's attention and time. I got over it, but still...I can _relate._ The more I think about it, the more I realize how similar Jake and I really are.

"Do you see your dad much?"

He goes quiet again, like I've struck a raw nerve, before he shakes his head. "Nah. He moved to L.A. with his new family. I haven't seen him in three years."

 _That_ is even more heart wrenching. I instantly feel a deep dislike for this kid's father. Even if he did remarry and start a new life, he has _no_ right to just abandon his own child like that. The same thing had happened with Ahsoka, and when I found out, I'd wanted to hunt the man down and throttle him for doing that to her – me and all my fourteen-year-old glory. No child deserves that. Of course, I shouldn't make assumptions, because I don't know the whole situation and should butt out, but I can't help it. I'm curious and emotional. And, I want to help.

And _then,_ Jake says the one thing that suddenly makes _everything_ so much clearer. "He only calls me when I get a bad report card."

Instantly, I _understand._ He's failing on purpose… _For_ _attention._ So, that his father will call him and yell at him for failing another class. Because it's the _only_ other contact Jake has with his dad. And, if **that** isn't the most _heartbreaking_ thing I've ever heard in my life, then I don't know what is. I may only be twenty-two, and I haven't even had a father figure for most of my life, but even I know that's shitty parenting straight up. What kind of message is that sending your kid? The father must be paying school tuition or something, and when Samantha calls him to tell him about his own son's report card, he gets on the phone and tells Jake that he's letting him down. But, of course, if that's the _only_ time Jake hears from his own father, then _why_ on earth would he change his ways? If it means attention – even if it's wrong kind of attention.

It makes _so_ much more sense now.

I lean over towards him and reach out to put my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it away. "Jake," I persist, keeping my voice as kind and soft as I possibly can – harnessing the voice I used to use when I was comforting Ahsoka when she was younger. "Have you _ever_ thought that just maybe your dad would call you if you did _well_ at school, too?"

Confusion is etched all over his face as he considers my question, as though it has never once occurred to him. "I'm not – " he begins, uncertainly, all shy and insecure. "I'm not as smart as Emma. My sister is the intelligent one. She's the one in med school. I'm just…I'm just _average_. I'll only ever be average."

Okay, now I _really_ want to find this dickhead of a father and set him straight. What the _fuck_ has he done to his own kid? Jake hasn't even got a _shred_ of confidence. It's _horrible_ to witness.

"That's not true, buddy," I tell him firmly, locking my jaw, my tone completely serious. He's almost taken aback by my sudden ferocity. "You can be _anything_ you want to be. You're only thirteen! You have your whole life ahead of you."

He swallows, unsure, and then nods his head weakly. "I…I guess. You...You really think so?"

I grin, nodding my head. "Absolutely," I assure him, my voice brimming with confidence, and it makes him sit a little taller in his chair.

All he needs is a good confidence boost. Someone to believe in him. That's all _any_ kid needs. "Y'know," I add with a soft smile. "I never even _knew_ my father."

"Really?" He asks, eyes wide, voice soft.

"Nope. He left before I was even born. All these kids at school had their fathers come to their tracks meets, ballgames, and their graduation, but all I had was my mom. For years, I thought there must have been something wrong with me. _Why_ didn't he want me? _Why_ didn't he love me enough to stay? But, then I realized there was no point in thinking about that. He wasn't coming back. So, you know what I did?"

"What?" He blinks, fully captivated. I've got his entire focus.

"I stopped giving a shit." Maybe I _shouldn_ ' _t_ be swearing in front of a thirteen-year-old, but I don't care. I'm sure he's heard worse. "My father didn't care about me, and I couldn't change that. As far as I was concerned, it was _his_ loss. The only thing I could change was _myself_...So, that's exactly what I did. I stopped slacking off in class. I actually paid attention. I did my homework, I studied, and y'know what? I did well enough to get a full scholarship here at Columbia, and now I'm on the Dean's List. And, I did _that_ all on my own _without_ a father."

It takes a while for the information to sink in. I can see the cogs whirring inside his head as he processes what I've just told him. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. The broad grin that suddenly breaks out on his face is good enough for me. Our eyes meet, and mutual understanding passes between us.

By the end of the lesson, Jake has got a pretty good grip on algebra, but more importantly, our relationship has grown. We discover we have a ton of things in common – like a _great_ appreciation for Margot Robbie, particularly with the new Suicide Squad movie coming out. In Jake's own words, _"Man, she's HOT!"_ and I have to agree with him. She _certainly_ is.I want to take him to see it, but I'll have to ask his mom if I can. There's this strong, brotherly attachment I feel towards the kid; like it's my _duty_ to protect him or something. He _needs_ someone like me, and quite frankly, I think I need him, too.

When Samantha returns to pick him up, I take her aside for a moment, while Jake is packing away his books, to tell her privately what he told me. Her entire face widens in horror as I explain _exactly_ why Jake is failing his classes, and what that kind of negative reinforcement can do to a kid. She had no idea, the poor woman, and almost bursts into tears right where I'm standing, which makes me take pity on her. She's not a bad mother. She just didn't know, or understand.

Her eyes glance inside, where her son is, and she watches him with a terribly sad expression on her face. "My poor baby," she heaves a heavy sigh. "He was so young when my ex-husband and I separated. He didn't take it well. The new _wife_ doesn't want him visiting anymore, and Andrew just goes along with it, to keep her happy. Jakey just… he doesn't _understand."_ She sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thank you, Anakin. For telling me this. I truly had no idea."

Shaking my head, I smile kindly at her. "No problem. Your son is a good kid, Mrs. Fields. And, pretty bright actually. I think he can go far...With the right encouragement."

Samantha beams at my praise, and I feel incredibly fulfilled somehow. _This_ must be what Padme meant by doing something worthwhile. It actually feels really _good._

"Jakey needs a strong, male figure in his life. My partner, Mark, has been trying _so hard_ to make some sort of connection with him, but," her eyes flash over to her son again, "Jake's stubborn, just like his father. He just hasn't warmed to the fact that there's another man taking his father's place, y'know?"

I tell her that I understand, that I know how he feels, and she thanks me for taking such a keen interest in her son. When Jake eventually comes out, I propose my idea to take him to the movies at some point, and he is _ecstatic_ about the idea. Samantha agrees, believing it to be a good idea, and we exchange phone numbers so that we can organize something. She sees me as _more_ than just a math tutor for Jake, maybe more like a mentor, which fills me with a deep sense of pride and responsibility. Because, as she tells me, I've been the _only_ one who could get through to her son.

When they both leave and say goodbye, I head out of the student centre into the main courtyard and decide to call Padme. I always want to see her, but right now, I want to tell her all about what just happened with Jake, because I _know_ she'll understand, she'll relate. She answers the phone after four rings and greets me cheerfully. " _Hello, Anakin. Well, this is a nice surprise."_

Her smiling voice makes me grin from ear to ear like the smitten idiot I am. "Hey. What are you doing right now? I'm free this afternoon. I don't have to work today. Wanna do something? Like a movie or…just whatever?"

There's a pause, some clattering in the background and unfamiliar muffled voices, before she heaves a deep sigh. " _Oh, Anakin, I would love that, but I'm actually working at the soup kitchen right now."_

I try to contain my disappointment as best as I can and mutter, "Oh. Okay. That's fine. Another time maybe."

She must feel bad, because she instantly apologizes. " _I'm sorry, Anakin. Really."_

It makes me smile. "Don't apologize, Padme. I doubt Mother Theresa apologized when she was helping the sick."

" _I'm not Mother Theresa,"_ she protests in my ear, and I can hear the twinge of amused exasperation in her voice, which makes me smirk, because I can just picture her rolling her eyes at me and letting out that little huff that she does, the one that usually ruffles the curly tendrils of hair across the left side of her forehead. Honestly, it's so fucking cute when she does that. " _I just like helping people."_

"Well, **I** think you're pretty amazing," I tell her, honestly, and she does that little breathy laugh of hers, and I just _know_ she's blushing right now. It only makes my need to see her grow.

" _Anakin…"_ she mutters, all humble and embarrassed, and I grin into the phone.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your Good Samaritan duties. We'll organize something for another time this week, yeah?"

" _Sounds perfect. Call me later, ok? I'll talk to you then, Anakin. Bye."_

"Bye, Padme." As I hang up, I'm left feeling a little disappointed. I was _really_ looking forward to seeing Padme, going out and talking things over with her, _sharing_ this experience with her. And, yeah, I also just wanted to see her, just because. So, I decide that I'm going to swing by the Community Centre, where I remember the soup kitchen's located, regardless of the fact that she's working, and surprise her. She'll get a break, I'm sure of it, and maybe I could help out, too. She'd appreciate that. And, after the great feeling I had from helping Jake, I'm suddenly _hoping_ I can help out at the soup kitchen and share _that_ with Padme also.

I head towards the taxi rank and hail a cab, giving the driver the directions. My hands tremble as they rest in my lap. I only saw her yesterday, and yet, it's like I've been without her for weeks. My entire body is tingling with anticipation, and I'm a little nervous. Hopefully, she appreciates my impulsive visit and doesn't think I'm being _too_ clingy. I don't want to give her the wrong impression.

The taxi pulls up outside the Community Centre, and I hop out and just stare in mute silence at the sight before me. There's already a line up wrapped around the corner and halfway down the block of people waiting for their evening helping of food. Seeing so many poor homeless people tugs at my heartstrings, and I feel a pang of sympathy. Honestly, Padme is _such_ a wonderful person, to do things like this for others less fortunate. I suddenly feel _ashamed_ of _not_ doing something like this before now, and once again, I am forced to admit to myself that I really _don_ ' _t_ deserve her…she's way too pure and good and kind for someone like me. She is an angel on earth.

As I walk inside the double front doors, I see her behind a table toward the back of a large rectangular room lined with many tables, without a single empty chair at any of them, ladling out dishes of what looks like pumpkin soup. I stop for a minute and just admire her, a proud grin slowly spreading across my face. There's this glorious smile on _her_ face that lights up her beautiful eyes. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid that falls down her spine. She's wearing blue jeans, Nikes, and a navy blue sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and even though she's in a large, oversized orange apron and her skin is shining with perspiration, she's just _so_ beautiful. A glow is radiating from her, as though doing this, _helping people_ , is the single most happy moment of her entire life, and for a long moment, I simply watch her in complete awe.

Deciding that I need to be closer to her, to bask in her aura, I quickly walk around the edge of the room and approach her from behind and bend down to kiss her cheek. She jumps slightly from the contact and pauses, her breath catching in her throat, and then she whips her head around to look up at me. Once she realizes who I am, her eyes soften and she beams up at me. _Fuck_ , she's so perfect, with her cheeks glowing pink and her eyes bright and alive.

"Anakin?!" The surprise is evident in her voice. Along with _pleasure,_ which I am thrilled to note.

I grin down at her and rest my hand on her waist. "Hey. Surprise!"

She giggles and shakes her head at me. "What are you doing here?"

Shrugging my shoulders casually, I reply, "I wanted to see you." Her expression grows soft and sweet, and she ducks her eyes a little, shy and embarrassed. It only makes me want to kiss her again...This time a _real_ kiss. "And, I thought you might want some help."

"Oh, _Anakin_ ," she breathes my name, and it makes my stomach jolt. I _adore_ the way she says my name, the way her voice wraps around the syllables with a gentle caress. "That's _so_ kind of you. We can always use another pair of hands."

Grinning down at her, I flash her a wink, and retort, "Well, it's lucky I have a set of those," which makes her laugh again.

Cheeks still tinged pink, she smiles brightly up at me. "Go and see Cindy, over there," she points to where a woman in her late fifties is standing by the door, obviously directing the entire kitchen and serving staff. "She'll give you an apron and some gloves and tell you where to go. Oh," and then she steps closer to me and stretches up, so her mouth is right at my ear where she whispers, "If you tell her you know me, she might even put you at my station." There's an implied sense of _hope_ in her statement, as I pull back and see her smiling softly up at me, as though she _wants_ me to work with her, and I can't help but smirk at that little win.

I nod my head and swoop down suddenly to kiss her, a little peck on her delightful mouth this time, leaving her blushing and smiling shyly, and then head over to get geared up. Padme is right about one thing – as soon as I tell Cindy that I know her, she immediately hands me a matching apron and gloves and sends me over to work right beside her. Not that I'm gonna complain about it, because it's what I wanted, after all.

Padme smiles brightly at me when I walk back to her, geared up and ready to work. She gives me directions, tells me to stick with her, which I am more than happy to do, and we get straight to work. And, it _is_ work. Hard work. But, I find I don't mind it in the least, and I can immediately understand _why_ Padme finds this so rewarding. At every table, morose weary faces instantly light up and beam at us gratefully as we approach, as if we're the first friendly faces they've seen all day. Honestly, it's sad to think about the fact that this may indeed be the case.

We don't talk much between ourselves as we work, because Padme is probably the most focused person I've ever met, and it seems she's got a bit of a fan club with the locals, which I find sweetly endearing. She greets each of them kindly and engages in friendly small talk as she happily serves them, and they eagerly respond to the attention with gratitude and appreciation, and I hear more than one person reply with _Thank you so much, Miss Padme,_ so I just follow her along and let her do her thing. Instead, I just sneak glances at her every two seconds, in full admiration of just how _incredible_ this woman really is. Her heart is so pure, and to think I have even the _smallest_ part of it – even if it's just as an acquaintance – has me feeling lighter than air. I fall deeper and deeper in love with her every second I spend with her – and yes, I'm _certain_ it's love. I have no doubts of my feelings anymore. I've accepted it...and gladly. There's nothing else that can describe how I feel about her. Nothing.

Of course, she probably doesn't feel that way about me. Why would she? What could I possibly offer her that is _good enough?_ And, to be honest, I wouldn't even blame her if she doesn't return my feelings. I'm not worthy of her – _no one is_ , I'm absolutely certain of that. Padme deserves someone as pure and wonderful as she is…And, I'm _far_ from any of that. Not even close.

It's nine when the dinner service ends, and as Padme and I clean up, I decide to pop the question that's been on my mind since I arrived here. "Wanna grab a bite to eat? I'm famished."

Padme lifts her head to look at me with a smile as she washes her hands at the sink in the back of the kitchen. "Sure, Anakin. That'd be lovely."

Nodding my head proudly, I reach down for her hand, and she slips hers into mine, clutching my own tightly, and we walk out of the Community Centre onto the quiet, darkened street. There's a 24/7 diner just down the road, and seeing as it's kinda late and we're both starving, we decide to go there, because we can't be bothered wandering around any longer. We choose a booth by the window, and I slide in opposite her.

"Thank you, Anakin," she says softly as she peruses the menu, before setting it aside and clasping her hands together over the table. "That was _really_ nice of you to help out like that. I know Cindy appreciated it, and so did I." She shoots me a radiant smile that lights up her whole face.

I shrug casually, like it was no big deal and give her a warm, genuine smile. "I wanted to see you, and I realized I wanted to help, too."

My honesty causes her to blush again, right up to the roots of her dark hair, and I'm beginning to think that _that_ colour – that distinctively _Padme_ blush, is now my favourite colour in the entire world.

She catches me staring at her, and tips her head slowly to the side. "What is it?"

Laughing, I shake my head and reach across to take back her hand. I love how small and dainty it is, how it fits so perfectly in my palm. I gently rub circles over the back of her hand with my thumb. "You're so _beautiful_."

Her blush deepens, and she tucks a stubborn curl that fell loose from her braid behind her ear, and I'm _transfixed_ by that action. "Don't be silly," she protests. "I'm a _mess_ right now."

" _Especially,_ right now," I insist, and she visibly squirms under my heavy gaze.

"Don't say things like that, Anakin," she mutters, clearly embarrassed by my honest praise.

Unable to help myself, I smirk at her and raise my eyebrow. "Why not? It's the truth."

She swallows thickly and opens her mouth to retort, when the waitress approaches to take our order. I get the buttermilk pancake stack with sausage links and my signature long black (decaf this time, as it _is_ late), and after a few minutes hesitation, Padme orders the same, with a decaf cappuccino.

"What? No whipped cream?" I tease her through a laugh, and she rolls her eyes at me and huffs in that adorable way of hers.

"I felt like something different," she supplies smoothly, lips curled into a smirk. "So, how was tutoring?" She asks brightly, changing the subject, and I smile and sit up straighter, eager to relay my experience.

I tell her everything, about Jake, about his family drama, about how much he and I have in common (including our shared MargotRobbie _appreciation,_ whichmakes Padme giggle), and how,apparently, I'm the _only_ one who's gotten through to him out of a whole string of tutors. Padme listens intently, with keen interest, nodding along to everything I say with a small smile on her lips. Perhaps I'm being _too_ enthusiastic about it, but I can't help it. I feel incredibly _proud_ of myself – of doing something like it. And, it's _all_ because of _her._

When I'm finished, she sits back in the booth and chews on her bottom lip, her brown eyes regarding me with something akin to misery. "That poor boy," she mutters sadly.

"Yeah…" I nod my head, thinking back to Jake. He's a good kid, really, and deserves so much better than a shit head father who shows him no affection or attention.

"He's lucky he's got _you_ , Anakin," she beams across at me, taking my hand once more and squeezing my fingers. It's a sweet, almost _intimate_ action, that doesn't go unnoticed by me. And the _look_ in her eyes – her big, beautiful, expressive, dark eyes…I've never seen someone look at me like that. It's difficult to describe; somewhere between pride and awe. Either way, I'll do everything in my power to have her look at me like that for the rest of my life. Even if I have to cure world hunger to do it.

"I don't know about _that,_ " I reason, countering her argument. "I'm no saint or anything. I might not even help that much."

"That's not true," Padme insists, and I feel something stirring inside me at the sound of her defending me like that. "You're a _good_ person, Anakin, and you're intelligent and ambitious and generous and selfless. And, you understand him. You're _exactly_ what this boy needs right now."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. _She's_ praising _me?_ She…Padme Naberrie… The most perfect human being on the planet…She thinks I'm _all that?_ I stare at her, incredulously, and I want to kiss her so _fucking_ bad. I want to lean across the table and take her angelic face in my hands and fuse my mouth to hers for eternity.

I must have been staring at her like a hunter eyeing it's prey, because she does that thing again where her head tilts to the side, and she eyes me curiously. "Why do you look at me like that?" She asks, softly.

"Like what?"

"I dunno...Like I'm…Like I'm the _only_ person in the world."

I rake a hand through my hair. This is the moment where I'm supposed to tell her how I feel about her, that I'm head over heels in love with her, but I'm a fucking coward, and I just can't do it. I mean, what kind of _creep_ says that after like, what, three dates? Four, if we're counting this one (and I am). That's not a comforting thing for a girl to hear…It's borderline crazy. Maybe I _am_ crazy. I just…I can't tell her that. Not yet. It would scare her off…And, I'm doing so well. I can't mess it up now. I _need_ her in my life.

Instead, I just smile at her, all dopey and lovesick and lean forward, so I'm only inches away from her face. "You're just so…" I stutter and glance down quickly at the table before looking back into her eyes, unable to even find the words to describe her. "I've never...met _anyone_ like you before, Padme. Sometimes, it's like you're not even real."

Her face flushes hotly at my compliment, and she gives a nervous laugh. "I'm not perfect, Anakin," she tells me.

"To me you _are_ ," I exhale, and then move even closer, going in for the kiss I've been dying to give her since I saw her again this afternoon. Just as I touch my lips to hers gently, the softest, most delicate of touches, she pulls away and blinks at me.

"Wait," she answers my questioning stare and clears her throat. "There's… There's something I want to discuss with you, Anakin."

The way she sits back and clasps her hands together, taking a diplomatic stance almost, makes me laugh a little, and I nod, sending her an easy smile. "I'm all ears."

Clearing her throat once more, like she's about to give a speech or something, she darts her eyes to her lap for a second, before meeting my gaze firmly. It's the cutest goddamn thing I've ever seen. "Well, I've – uh, really enjoyed our… _time_ together. And I just…Wait, you have too, haven't you?" She shoots me an inquiring look.

"Absolutely," I say immediately, still smiling.

Padme nods her head a few times, clearly nervous. "Good. Good. That's…That's _good_." She's stuttering and biting her lips, and it's fucking adorable. Padme is _always_ so put together and composed, and I _never_ thought I'd see her all flustered and nervous like this, and it does something to my ego that _I'm_ the one causing it, and I can't deny the sudden swell of masculine pride I feel at that thought. "Well, I was just wondering if you – I mean, I don't know what your…Umm… _dating_ _life_ is like, and I guess it's really none of my business, of course, and I really don't want to seem _too_ forward here, but well...," she pauses to catch her breath and nervously tucks a stray curl behind her ear before she continues, "...I'm not currently seeing anyone else but you, and – well…I was wondering...if you maybe wanted to...date me. Y'know. _Exclusively,_ I mean _._ " When she stops speaking, she starts chewing on her bottom lip and flicking her eyes back and forth between my gaze and the tabletop, obviously nervous as to _how_ I'll respond.

It takes me a moment to fully process _exactly_ what she's asking me, because of all her adorable stammering, but once I do, my jaw literally like drops to the floor. She wants to date _me!_ Padme Naberrie wants to date **me**...and _only me!_ Properly. _Exclusively._ And, she's worried that I won't say _yes?!_ Is she _serious_ right now? How could I _possibly_ be seeing anyone else when I know _her?_ Why on earth would I _want_ to see anyone else with her in my life?

My immediate shock gives her the wrong impression, though, and she instantly starts stuttering again, tripping over her words and telling me it's _okay_ if I don't want to, that she's _totally fine with it_ , and then suddenly, I'm kissing her soundly to shut her up. It does the trick. She stops talking instantly. I tease her mouth open and swallow her words, and she kinda freezes against my mouth on a soft sigh, as I press my lips against hers.

I pull away after a few seconds, to see this gorgeous look of shock and confusion on her face. Her tongue sneaks out to wet her lips slowly and then she swallows. "So, is that a…I mean...Is that a _yes?_ "

Shaking my head, I can't contain my laughter at her uncertainty, and I have to fight the sudden urge to pump _both_ my fists in the air in _triumph,_ and I have to forcibly quell the animalistic _roar_ I feel in my chest at her words. She is frightfully unaware of just _how_ wonderful and alluring she really is. As if I _wouldn't_ say yes. I'm pretty sure if she asked me to jump of a cliff right now and plummet to my death, I'd do it. Without question. I'd do anything she asks.

" _Yes._ I would _love_ to date you exclusively, Padme," is my firm reply, and I can't help the grin I feel spreading across my face.

With a confident nod, she smiles, like she's just negotiated a business transaction, instead of asking me to be exclusive, to be her _boyfriend_. Still. It's fucking cute. "Well, good. I'm...I'm glad that's settled then."

I reach out with my hand and cup her cheek, thumbing at the little freckle in the centre of her cheekbone tenderly. "Can I kiss you now? To...y'know, _seal the deal."_ I tease her with a mischievous smirk, delighted beyond measure to know that it's _official,_ that I can now call Padme _my girlfriend._

Her eyes darken just a little, cloud over with desire, and she breathes, " _Yes, Anakin._ "

That's as good an invitation as any.


	10. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Hello my lovely readers! It's been a while so I just thought I'd check in and let you know that, yes, I'm still alive _*barely*._

Unfortunately, I'm at the point in my university semester where assessment is piling (six assessment pieces with only three weeks left) and anxiety levels are at an all time high. Frequent breakdowns and sobbing at my desk, coupled with indulging in deluxe packets of TimTams (my Aussie readers will understand... if you are not from Australia and haven't experienced these little slices of heaven, my heart goes out to you...truly) has become my reality over the past month, and as such, I have had no time to write.

Never fear, the worst is almost over for me *please help* but until such a time that I'm free from the stress of maintaining a good enough GPA to achieve first class honours, I will be unable to update any of my stories. I'm sorry for the inconvenience and I hope you will stick it out until I'm back writing again :) _***please don't leave me or I'll cry. I'm highly emotional right now***_

Much love,

shelivesfree

xx


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